RTC
by skag trendy
Summary: Dean is badly beaten. And it’s Sam to the rescue! But on responding to Dean’s call for help, Sam learns the hard way that 4X4s don’t respond well to over steer. Involves helpless, trapped, Hurt Sam and injured, desperate Protective Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**RTC**

___**RTC – Road Traffic Collision, **_

_**formerly referred to as Road Traffic Accident.**_

_**But 'accident' **__**implies it's no one's fault…**_

**Author's Foreword**

**Motivation: **_written last autumn but thought it too crap t__o__ release. Then tonight, as I sat here with a bad bout of writers block I thought of something Nick Harper once said on the BBC sitcom My Family: _

_"we're all going to screw up anyway, _

_so why not screw up on the side of _

_Hey! Why the hell not!"_

_So if you like it then please tell me and I may continue, if not then also please tell __me __and I'll stop torturing Sam with Health Care Professionals._

_(I merely mention that__ on the principle that I have to work with the buggers so why shouldn't he suffer too!)_

**Locations: **_completely fabricated within the corridors of my rather sick mind__ along with the dreadful plot_

**Character****s**_not mine in any way shape or form, apart from the emergency team._

_And unlike most emergency teams I've been acquainted with over the years, I have written this one to be highly trained, non-sadistic, and appear to make a good impression of people that actually know that they're doing._

**Synopsis: **_**Dean is badly beaten. And it's Sam to the rescue!**_

_**But on responding to Dean's call for help, Sam learns the hard way that 4X4s don't respond well to over steer.**_

_**Set after Season 2**_

**Introducing a Supernatural fan fiction…**

**Chapter 1**

"Sammy"...a slurred voice rang out on Sam's cell phone.

"Dean? What the fuck did you think you were doing?" Sam struggled to maintain his grip on the wheel as anger washed through him closely followed by relief.

There was some more shouting on Sam's part before the relief was short lived.

Dean let out a small gasp. It sounded like he was in pain.

"Dean! You ok man?"

"Not so good" there was a scuffling sound. "I think my...my drink ...was spiked..." this was followed by a long groan. "H..hurts to b-breathe…"

"Dean where are you?"

"...a...an' then they beat the shit out of me..." he groaned again. "…..couldn't fight back….."

There was the sound of Dean sliding down a wall, a thud as his backside hit the ground, some brief swearing, and what sounded like mumbled directions.

"I repeat. Where the hell are you?" The frustration in Sam's voice was rapidly being outdone by concern when Dean made a second attempt at telling his brother what planet he was currently occupying. The reaction was certainly interesting to behold, but not quite what Dean was expecting:

Sam nearly hit the roof. "That's nearly into the next state! Dude, that's hours away!"

"Just p- please come get m..." followed by another thud as he tipped sideways and his head hit the ground.

"Dean? Hey Dean!" Sam felt a moment of panic until he heard a groan down the phone "Just take it easy and don't move. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Dean replied sounding drunk "You the man..."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**Hours**__**earlier**_

"Bobby? When Sam wakes up tell him I'll be back later." Dean swiped his car keys off the work top.

Bobby Singer, long time friend to the Winchester family, nodded giving Dean a slow appraising stare. He put down the piston he'd been cleaning and reached for an oily rag.

"And if he asks...?"

Dean grinned at the older hunter "I've gone to seek a close encounter of the female kind."

Bobby raised an amused eyebrow. "So you'll be gone most of the night then." The appraising look returned. "You and Sam had a rough time last night. That Banshee was no picnic." He gestured to the bruises and cuts on Dean's face. "May be you should take a leaf outa Sam's book and get some rest."

Dean shook his head. "Not tired. And besides, I'm feeling lucky. May be I'll hustle some poker, make some quick cash."

Sam and Dean had been staying at Bobby Singer's for a while. Ever since the gates to hell had been opened, they'd needed Bobby's support and friendship. The shock of seeing their father and the ordeal of defeating the yellow-eyed demon had taken its toll on all of them. Dean was becoming more and more reckless and Sam was freaking out about it. The younger Winchester brother spent hours reading books, trawling the internet for any scrap of information about deals with the cross-road demon and in particular how said deals could be broken, but to no avail. He barely slept or ate between hunts; if he wasn't sleeping because of research, then it was usually down to Dean's cavalier attitude during the hunts that had Sam constantly on edge, watching his older brother, making sure he didn't throw his life away needlessly before the year was up.

Bobby watched both the boys with a good deal of concern. It seemed to him that if Sam couldn't find a way to save his sibling, then it would kill him anyway, making the deal seem pointless. May be he would just fade away, dissolved in his grief, or perhaps he would adopt Dean's carefree outlook and get himself killed on a hunt. Bobby almost hoped for the latter option; it would be too much to bear to see Sam die slowly and painfully, hollowed out and destroyed.

"If you boys need cash…." Bobby called out, but stopped when Dean turned back to stare at him with that all too familiar stubborn Winchester expression.

"You do enough for us as it is. We pay our way." Dean's face softened a little. "Just keep an eye on Sam for me ok? The guy keeps following me around, waiting for me to drop. I just want him to take better care of himself once in a while." He shook his head a little and glanced back at Bobby. "Make sure he eats something? Please?" He added softly.

"I'll see what I can do, but the minute that boy realises you've gone he'll wanna go after ya."

Dean shrugged. "Just keep him occupied with a few geeky research books and he'll be fine." He picked up his leather coat, gave a small salute and went out the door. Bobby heard the rumble as the Impala sprang to life, and turned back to the engine block on the work bench.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean hummed along to Aerosmith's Something's Gotta Give. He felt happier than he had in ages. It was like a huge weight had been lifted and he was flying.

Ok may be not flying, he corrected himself, remembering the last time he'd been on board a plane. It wasn't an experience he wished to repeat, especially as flying scared the living crap outa him, but there was no way he was letting his little brother on board a doomed flight by himself. As it was it had taken the two of them to perform the exorcism on the sonofabitch-phantom traveller, and whilst Dean still had nightmares about seeing the ground rushing up to meet him, Sam hadn't gotten off so lightly either. The demon-possessed pilot had spoken of Sam's dead girlfriend Jess, and that had set off the guilt trips.

_Demons lie, but sometimes they tell the truth just to mess with your head….._

Sam was certainly prone to the guilts, Dean reflected. But now he had something completely different to feel guilty about. Dean pushed that thought to the back of his mind; if he could have gone back in time he'd do it all over again, make the same deal. Anything to bring Sam back from the dead. And whether Sam liked it or not he was going to have to live with it.

Dean had hoped to get the full ten years but considering how much he'd pissed off the cross-road demon the first time they'd met, he supposed that was asking a bit much. So he was stuck with one year left on this mortal plane. One more year before his descent into hell.

"One more year of beer, junk food, hunting….and a lot of sex!" He muttered to himself happily.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

After a satisfyingly long drive, Dean pulled up to the first bar he came to and jumped out, locking the car. He strode across the parking lot, took a brief look at the name on the sign over the door, smirked and went inside.

There was this to be said about the The Red Pig Roadhouse; it certainly lived up to its name. It was red, for a start. Every wall, even the ceiling was painted in a bright red, so startling that it hurt the eyes. Lastly, the place was a pig, or rather the kind of place you'd expect to find pigs, and if the bar staff and clientele were anything to go by Old MacDonald had given up the farming business years ago and moved on. These people weren't pigs as such, more like wart hogs but not necessarily as intelligent, judging from the grunts and snorts that obviously passed as conversation round here. That was the only reason Dean didn't walk out there and then.

The floor was mostly covered in what Dean fervently hoped was mud – the alternative was just too much to contemplate, though the smell wasn't allowing him a lot of room to manoeuvre on that point. Where there wasn't mud there was straw, and the music came from an old cassette player in the corner that had definitely seen better times. Something, or quite possibly someone was warbling out "Blue Velvet" and might have once sounded halfway decent, but either the tape had become so warped or the player itself was on its last legs that it sounded to Dean as though something was being slowly strangled, possibly at the bottom of the ocean.

He shrugged to himself and wandered over to the bar. It took some time for the bartender to put down his newspaper and haul himself over to the new customer standing patiently at the counter. His beer gut was an impressive sight, Dean realised, if you liked that kind of thing, and this guy's could have been a world record holder.

"What can I get ya?" Rumbled Beer Gut. He seemed friendly enough so Dean ordered a Bud and waited for about another ten minutes as he struggled to bend down and get one out of the cooler. Then, on realising that the bottle opener was on the other side of the bar, waddled over to retrieve it. This took another five minutes, and by the time Dean had the beer in front of him he was so parched that he nearly downed the whole damn bottle in one swallow. He figured that if he wanted another drink he'd better order it now.

"Hey man, can I get another?" Dean asked, putting on his best-buddy grin. Beer Gut returned it, and after another significant wait another beer was placed on the bar. Dean thanked him, then after a brief glance around the room, leaned over to the barman conspiratorially and asked "So whadda people do round here for fun?"

Beer Gut looked at him, as if trying to process what Dean was asking him. After a while he spoke "mostly thems folks" he nodded to a group of what appeared to be humans over in the corner of the bar "they plays cards. Poker mainly." That seemed to be all he had to say on the matter because he slouched off back to his seat and newspaper.

Dean picked up his beer and casually strolled over to the card players. They were indeed playing poker. For money.

"Howdy", Dean grimaced inside as he said it. That phrase had always come off as a bit cheesy to him, but the players didn't seem to care one way or the other.

One of them glanced up, his hair a mess of tangles, and his facial features were altogether a little too, well, piggy-like for Dean's comfort.

"What you want boy?" he growled.

Dean tried the friendly approach again; it seemed to work on the bartender. "I was wondering if you boys had room for another. I'm just takin' a break, been on the road for ever."

The so-called men glanced at each other, nodded, and without another word shifted over to make room for Dean. One of them even pulled up a chair for him.

Not the most talkative bunch he'd ever come across. And certainly not overly endowed in the IQ department, Dean thought to himself, mentally rubbing his hands with glee.

The cards were dealt.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam awoke with a jolt, sweat pouring off him. He'd been having the same nightmares every night for a while now.

_…..__ the year was up, the cross-road demon had come for his brother, and __with a sad smile Dean fell__ down dead,__ not a scratch on him__, his bright green eyes dull and lifeless__. The demon __laughed. _

_Jess, pinned to the ceiling with flames consuming_ _her…_

_Why __S__am?_

Wiping a hand over his face, Sam sighed, wondering how much more of this he could stomach. Noting that it was getting dark out, he turned his attention to the laptop and switched it on, preparing for another endless night of research. He didn't care how long it took him, or what he had to do to save his older brother, so long as he did it before the end of the year.

After an hour or so of frustration, Sam went in search of some fruit juice. Stumbling bleary-eyed into the kitchen he raided the fridge until he found what he was looking for, grabbed a glass from the cupboard above the sink and poured. He could hear the sound of someone working in the yard; there was the metallic clanking noise as an engine was being refitted. Placing the juice back in the fridge, Sam wandered outside into the deepening gloom and searched in the half light for Bobby and Dean. Unable to make anything out, he moved around the side of the building and into the glow of the flood-lights that shone across the yard. There he found Bobby working on the engine of an old Ford Mustang.

But Dean was nowhere in sight.

Sam quickened his pace "Bobby? Where's Dean?" There was a sharp edge of worry in Sam's voice that Bobby couldn't fail to notice.

Bobby stood up and moved towards the younger Winchester, noting not for the first time the dark shadows under Sam's eyes. "Now you just hold your horses there young Sam. Dean's gone out for a while, that's all."

He didn't think it was worth mentioning that he might be gone all night. No sense in agitating Sam any further.

"Did he say where?" Sam asked sharply.

"Sam, it's ok. Let's go inside and I'll fix us something to eat" Bobby tried putting a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder, but it was shrugged off.

"I need to borrow a car." Sam stood arms folded, unmoving and as solid as a rock, the look on his face an exact replica of the one worn by his older brother earlier on in the day. Bobby inwardly groaned, knowing that when either one of them adopted that expression there would be no dissuading them from whatever course of action they'd chosen to take. He made a last ditch attempt anyway, just for the look of it.

"Dean's fine. He just needs some time alone, to think. There's no need to worry 'bout him." But Sam remained determined. The only thing that would likely work would be to drug the boy somehow, and Bobby didn't think that would be appreciated. And besides, he knew he couldn't betray Sam like that. Truth be told, he wasn't happy with Dean being on his own out there either. At least when Sam was with him he had someone to watch his back. Bobby sighed, went into the workshop and picked up a set of keys. He hesitated for a second before throwing them to Sam, who caught them with agility and grace.

"I don't know exactly where he was headed, but he turned south out of the yard. He planned to play some poker, make some money." Among other things, Bobby silently added. "Take the red SUV out back. Be careful out there." He had no idea why he said that, only that he felt it was necessary.

Sam nodded. "Thanks Bobby." He turned to go, then whispered "I appreciate this." He headed out into the now full blown night.

There was no moon but there were plenty of stars out to see by. Sam rounded the back of the workshop and grimaced at the sight of the vehicle he was about journey out in. It was indeed a red 4X4, but it was also old. So old in fact that Sam wondered if it was older than him.

He shrugged and climbed up into the driver's side and slid in behind the wheel. Any port in a storm. One way or another he was finding his brother tonight, even if he had to do it on foot.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean was feeling decidedly smug. He had been right about the other people seated at the poker game, and had managed to "win" about a hundred and fifty bucks. On top of that he'd easily discovered what they were up to, and had beaten them at their own game, so to speak. The men were looking at him with daggers in their eyes, as he scooped the last of the notes up and stuffed them into his jean pocket. Well, Dean reflected, no cheater likes to be cheated.

Feeling that this was perhaps the right moment to beat a hasty retreat, he got up from his seat. "Well gentlemen, it's been a pleasure doing business. Now if you'll excuse me…." Dean turned away and made his way out of the bar. The night was cool and fresh after the questionable smells he'd just escaped from, and he glanced up at the night sky.

Which started slowly spinning.

Whoa! I only had three beers, Dean thought to himself as he leaned against the wall of the building. Waiting for the world to right itself, he took a few deep breaths and glanced across the parking lot. The Impala was heavily hidden in the shadows but he could just make out the slight gleam of his beloved car among the trees.

As he straightened up he felt his stomach lurch and he fell back against the wall.

Ok, this isn't normal. What the hell is happening to me for Christ sake?

Then the spinning world decided that taking pity on him wouldn't be much fun, and picked up speed. Dean felt as though he were about to pass out, when a large hairy fist connected with his stomach, nearly causing it to empty right then and there. Somehow he managed to hold onto his dignity and ducked the next blow that came his way. Suddenly he found himself picked up and slammed into the wall, pinned by one of the poker players. He didn't know the bastard's name because none of them had been too forthcoming with that information.

"You cheated us boy. You gonna pay." Came a hoarse voice in his ear, the bad breath making Dean's stomach do another barrel roll. Another two or three faces appeared beside the unnecessarily ugly one right in front of him. To Dean's dismay, the faces blurred for a second, then he realised he was seeing double.

He tried to speak but couldn't muster any coherent words.

The pig-like men leered at him.

Oh shit.

And then the beating started. Fists rained blows on his face, splitting his lip, and were driven into his body, bruising ribs and kidneys alike. Fortunately, he couldn't feel too much pain,

which he thought was downright weird, but didn't really get too much time to think about it before one last blow to the side of his head sent him into oblivion.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam's concern and frustration was growing in equal amounts. He'd been trying to reach his brother's cell phone for what seemed like ages, but all he got was voice mail.

"Damnit Dean" he muttered out loud "why dya do this to me huh?"

He constantly worried about his older brother. Supposing the cross-road demon came to collect early? Sam couldn't bear the thought of losing Dean, not now after everything they'd been through. He had to find a way to break that deal. There was just no way Sam would cope if he couldn't. He wished Dean would help him, but he flatly refused.

He heard his cell phone chirping away to itself.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean gradually came to feeling distinctly nauseous and on sitting up promptly vomited all over the ground. With a heavy sigh he leaned his head back against the wall and rested for a moment.

The memories of the last few hours came storming back with a vengeance, and he winced. Clutching a hand to his bruised ribs he managed to haul himself onto his feet using the wall for support, swaying dangerously in the process.

"Sonofabitch!" he slurred angrily, as he felt in his jean pocket for the money and found it gone. How in hell had this happened? "Bastards must've drugged me with something."

But when? He hadn't left his drink unguarded, not even once.

An unbidden memory came to mind: one of the players had distracted his attention for a moment by knocking a beer mat onto the floor. He'd thought it strange at the time that the pig-like man had bothered picking it up. After all, what was one beer mat on a whole floor of crap? But because he was winning he hadn't questioned it. Dean had just wanted to collect and go.

He felt the growing bruise at the side of his head and groaned, realising what he was going to have to do. There was no way he could drive himself back in this state.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he glared dazedly at it as though it had personally offended him.

He was going to have to call what may well turn out to be one very angry little brother.

Oddly enough, Dean turned out to be one hundred percent correct.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam read the caller ID and answered immediately.

After the shouting had died down:

"….I'll be there as soon as I can."

Dean replied sounding drunk "You the man..."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**Now…..**_

Sam disconnected the call and put his foot down. He had no idea how badly he was hurt but the pain in his brother's voice had been almost too much to bear.

_If anything happens to Dean…._

But it's already happened, hasn't it? Sam thumped the steering wheel angrily, and it's my goddamned fault! I should've been watching out for him, after all Dean's spent all his life protecting my sorry ass, even trading his life for mine.

He was so distracted by his guilt and anger that he didn't notice the slight mist creeping in across the lonely road. In fact Sam didn't notice it until it reached almost fog-like thickness and he reluctantly slowed the SUV a little.

"What the hell?..." He was forced to slow even further when visibility quickly became almost zero. Sam refused to stop altogether; he was bound and determined to get to his brother.

Which was why it came as a bit of shock to suddenly come upon the rear end of a coach on his side of the road. Sam jammed on the breaks and the 4x4 came to an abrupt stop about an inch away from it.

He peered through the windshield at the large vehicle in front. It was a sight-seeing tour coach. There was no movement or sign of life from within; in fact he couldn't even hear the engine.

Throwing the car into reverse, Sam backed up a little, and then pulled forward until he was alongside the coach. The driver's window was open and someone was slumped over the steering wheel.

"Hey" Sam called out. "You ok up there?" As much as he needed to get to his brother, Sam couldn't bring himself to leave someone abandoned on the side of the road, especially if there was the possibility that person could be in need of medical attention. He couldn't see any signs of an accident, but may be the driver was ill. "Are you sick? Is there someone you need me to call for you?"

There was no response, and Sam was starting to get the feeling that something wasn't right here. He was just reaching for the door handle when there was movement from the driver.

"You ok?" Sam called again.

The driver abruptly sat up in his seat, then slowly turned his head to stare at Sam. The coach driver's eye sockets were empty of life, empty of eye sockets in fact. His grin mocking and evil, pale features an eerie grey-blue colour, which matched the glow that now surrounded the coach. Sam noticed to his horror that the skin was peeling away from the guys skull.

It was then that Sam realised the bus wasn't empty. Staring out the windows at him were several forlorn looking faces, equally devoid of life. He also noticed that the wheels of the coach weren't quite touching the ground, though they were covered in mud which suggested that whatever this apparition was, it was solid. Sam's eyes widened.

Oh fuck.

The coach driver's evil smile widened to match. "Hop on board, there's plenty of room for more."

Suddenly the coach roared and shot backwards along the road. It halted about twenty feet from where Sam's SUV sat idling.

Sam glanced back at the coach in time to see its ghostly driver waving a beckoning hand to him, before it came hurtling forward, aiming for the rear of Sam's car.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean raised his head off the ground, feeling a little less groggy than before.

Guess I passed out again, he thought mournfully.

In truth he was feeling rather sorry for himself. His ribs ached, his back hurt as did his head, and he was also painfully (hah!) aware of the total balling out he was going to get from his brother when he arrived.

Speaking of which, he checked his watch and frowned. Sam should've been here by now.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Major fuck.

Sam slammed the SUV into gear and pressed his foot hard on the throttle just as the coach came barrelling towards him with an unearthly screech.

For an old car the 4X4 did well on acceleration, but rather failed to maintain it for long before it protested with a heavy growl. It was enough to keep the coach at arm's length for a while and that's all that Sam cared about.

Its top speed should have been enough to evade a tour bus, but as Sam had already figured out, this was no ordinary tour bus.

This was a ghostly monster with a heart of pure evil, and it was tearing after Sam with a ferocity that astonished him.

Sam didn't dare look in the review mirror for fear of what he might see. He'd learned on too many occasions that whilst being chased by some demonic creature that was trying to chew his ass off, it was often best not to look back.

So he looked forward instead. Forward to seeing his brother and garrotting him for tonight's activities.

The fog had started to clear a little, as the old car pounded down the straight wheezing like a chain-smoking asthmatic, but it was still pretty murky.

Which was why Sam didn't see the bend in the road until the very last minute.

Now this is where things really started to go wrong for the youngest Winchester.

For a start, the bend was actually the start of a chicane.

For another thing, Sam forgot that he wasn't driving a 1967 Impala with a monster engine and all the trimmings that generally came with it.

Sam managed the first bend with all the finesse of a sumo wrestler-turned-ballet dancer, but it did at least get round, and he mentally congratulated his driving skills.

However, he wasn't quite so fortunate with the next one.

At this point he did glance in the review mirror, and seeing the coach take the bend so easily scared Sam into making a very silly mistake.

He floored it.

By over-stepping the mark, Sam expected the car to take the second bend nicely; the rear-end slightly fish-tailing out as he powered up with just the right amount of over steer, the whole car going into a beautifully controlled power slide round the curve.

And so he gave it the works.

Then he remembered what he was _actually_ driving, which was in fact a clapped out lemon with all the style and grace of Dean Winchester simultaneously snorting tequila and greasy burger, and very soon came to a nasty realisation.

4X4s, as a general rule, don't do power slides, beautifully controlled or not.

What they actually tend to do is roll.

Which is exactly what Sam's SUV did.

A lot.

Realising his mistake, Sam attempted to correct it by slamming his foot down on the brakes and wrenching the wheel hard over, but all he succeeded in doing was leaving a layer of rubber on the road.

With an astonishing amount of speed the car flipped over, as the rules regarding power to weight ratio shrugged their shoulders and gave up. After the first roll the momentum carried it on into the next, and the next, and so on, until the car righted itself.

On the edge of a rather daunting slope.

Sam looked around him feeling dazed, confused, and it had to be said more than a little pissed off. He was in particular trying to work out how he'd managed to slide round in his seat so that he was wedged between the side of the steering wheel and the driver's door. Trying to move back round, he grunted in pain as the steering column dug further into his chest and abdomen. On top of that, his left arm appeared to be stuck under the dash board, and he couldn't move his legs. He was well and truly trapped.

With a presence of mind, and a pain threshold that surprised himself given the circumstances, Sam managed somehow to switch off the engine and take the keys out, just in case the gas tank had been ruptured, the movement leaving him gasping for breath from the pain.

His head hurt like hell. But that wasn't surprising given that it had been repeatedly banged against the driver's window whilst the car took the spin cycle.

Gotta get it together, Sam thought to himself. Gotta find a way out of this mess.

So he made another sweeping examination of the car. The windshield had spider-webbed but held and he couldn't see out of it, ditto for the rear. All side windows were completely gone so far as he could judge. The seats were buckled, and he imagined that the doors were too.

He only had one option. Just as he reached for his cell phone with his free hand, he heard the familiar and terrible scream of the ghost coach, then the car was flooded with the eerie blue light.

Sam stared out of the passenger window from his position trapped against the driver's door, watching as the apparition bore down on his car at speed. He winced and shut his eyes as he prepared for the impact.

Which didn't come, at least not in the way Sam was expecting.

The coach nudged the tail end of the SUV with enough force to send it into a nose to end roll down the slope at a treacherous rate, accompanied by the horrendous sound of twisting and tearing metal.

"Noooooo!" Sam heard himself yell, the uncontrolled movement of the car causing untold agony. Just before the lights went out in his world, he heard the evil laughing of the coach driver fading.

The car eventually hit an outcrop, turning it into another long, sideways roll, before coming to rest with its belly up against a tree, driver's side down.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

So Sam's in trouble.

For anyone out there that appreciates majorly trapped, helpless, Hurt Sam and injured, desperate Protective Dean, then the next chapter should be right up your alley. So if you want me to continue then please tell me.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.

P.S. Apologies if this story doesn't flow well and bold/italics appear at odd places. I don't think the fan fic web site can cope with Windows Vista Microsoft Word – it just seems to do what it wants regardless of what I tell it after uploading the story. Any suggestions?


	2. Chapter 2

**RTC Chapter 2**

"Come on Sam! Where the hell are you?" Dean muttered as he called his brother a third time, only getting voicemail. He felt a brief flash of guilt when he realised that he was exactly mirroring his brother's earlier actions and words. Sam had left umpteen voicemail messages on Dean's phone. Perhaps this was Sam's way of getting him back for taking off without him. Well, if that was the case then the little shit was in for a whole lot of pain.

He tried calling his little brother a fourth time.

Again with the voicemail. Damnit!

Dean gave up for a moment and made another call. After the second ring it was answered.

"Bobby? You heard from Sam?"

"Nope. He went out looking for ya some time ago, ya know that?"

"Yeah, I called him. Asked him to come pick me up; I ran into a little trouble at the The Red Pig Roadhouse and..."

"You did what?!!" Bobby yelled down the line.

"Hey pipe down alright? I needed to think so I went for a long drive. Didn't imagine it would be such a big deal…."

"Yeah much good the thinking must've done ya" Bobby retorted. "Let me guess, they tried to cheat you at poker, and you being the smart ass cheated right back at them. I'm right aren't I?"

Dean paused. "Maybe." He was embarrassed to note he sounded like a petulant child.

Bobby continued "And I'm also guessing they spiked your drink so you'd be easier to kick the living crap out of, yes?"

Dean went silent.

"Dean, surely the name of the god damn place would've warned you off huh? No sane man goes into a place called The Red Pig Roadhouse, stuck out in the middle of nowhere, and tries to cheat the natives at poker!"

"How was I supposed to know…." Dean began muttering.

Bobby interrupted. "This is what I'm talking about and the exact reason why your brother spends most of his time worryin' himself sick about ya. Ya do exactly what you want, when you want and don't give a damn about the consequences for Sam. He's hurting Dean, real bad. And he needs you to help him through it."

There was a brief silence after this tirade.

Dean felt guilty because he knew Bobby was right, and Bobby felt guilty because he knew he was being overly harsh with the older Winchester.

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered.

"Aw Dean, it's not me ya should be apologising to. Just go talk to your brother, make it up to him."

"That's just it. He should have been here a couple hours ago and he's not answering his cell." Dean's tone became urgent as he was reminded of why he'd called Bobby in the first place.

Bobby thought for a moment. "He left my place over five hours ago." His tone sounded worried. "Stay put. I'm coming out to meet ya."

"No, I'm ok to drive. Gonna go look for him. There's only one road he could have taken if he was on his way to find me. Dig out a map of the area an' meet me half way at Jordons Crossing." Dean disconnected the call before Bobby could protest.

Wincing from his aching head, but more so from the ache in his heart, Dean made sure he wasn't about to suffer yet another jumping by the pigmen before racing to the Impala. Unlocking it he threw himself behind the wheel, started the engine and roared out of the parking lot.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bobby shook his head as Dean abruptly ended the conversation.

He started digging through his desk draw until he found the map he was looking for. Smoothing it out, he studied the route Dean had taken to the roadhouse. It was a lonely stretch that was rarely used except by the locals, and had a bad history attached to it.

He only hoped that Sam had merely broken down somewhere on the road, but that was unlikely; stubborn as he was Sam would've still called for help.

Something was desperately wrong here.

Bobby grabbed a shotgun, rock salt ammo, some holy water just in case, and anything else he could think of before running out to his truck. Normally the journey to Jordan's Crossing would take at least a couple hours, but Bobby was determined to be there sooner, even in his ol' heap.

So setting out on the road, Bobby kept a look out for the 4X4 he'd lent Sam, hoping and praying everything would turn out ok.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean pushed the Impala hard, whilst at the same time keeping his eyes peeled for any cars that may be parked at the side of the road. So far he'd found nothing. As the car ate away at the miles, Dean's fear and guilt quickly grew and ate away at him.

_God please let him be ok._

After an eternity of watching and driving, watching and driving, he eventually came to Jordan's Crossing, where he parked up and waited for Bobby.

Dean got out of the car and walked around, examining the road. He tried Sam's cell phone again, and got the same result as before. He wanted to shout and yell, but instead strode over to the car and leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the roof. Taking deep breaths, he urged himself to calm down. His chest was really causing some grief now, and he was taking short ragged breaths just to keep from falling over. Dean wasn't really sure if it was from the pain or the panic that was starting to build up each second his little brother remained missing.

When he felt his self-control returning he turned around to face the road, leaning against the car. He had to do something, so he continued pacing round the crossing.

Several times he stopped and went to the boot of the car, not really knowing what he was doing. His head was beginning to swim again, and _it hurt so __godammed__ much._

Once he stopped and took out his sawn-off shotgun, checked it was loaded, then carried on pacing.

He was really trying not to think. Thinking would be his undoing.

But he couldn't entirely stop the thoughts from breaking in.

_If only I'd stayed behind….._

_If only I'd taken him with me….._

_If only Bobby would call to tell me he'd found Sam safe and well….._

At that moment he heard the sound of a familiar engine approaching, and he looked up to see Bobby's truck pulling in beside the Impala. The owner jumped out and strode over.

Bobby shook his head at Dean's questioning glance. "Nothing out here tonight"

"Same here. Not a soul." Replied Dean. "Any chance he could've taken a different route?"

Bobby shrugged. "Hard to see why. The road goes straight through. May be we should do another sweep."

Dean shook his head immediately, and nearly passed out. Bobby caught him before he kissed tarmac. "Take it easy Dean. Just try to relax ok?

"No" Dean gasped as a wave of nausea hit him. "Another sweep'll take too damn long, and Sam could be in real trouble." Swallowing back the bile in his throat, he pulled out his cell phone again and dialled.

When his call connected he spoke quickly, "Thank god you answered so quickly! My son snuck out with some friends to go camping, and I've been searching for him. I need you to put a trace on his cell phone" Dean paused, listened, and then in a voice that poured out all his genuine concern and fear replied "Yeah I know that's confidential . But you see? He's epileptic and left his medication in his bedroom. If I don't find him soon I'm worried he'll have a grand mal seizure and his friends won't know how to help him…."

Bobby was impressed. If he didn't know better he'd have been sucked in by such a story, so convincing was the oldest Winchester brother. Seeing where this was going, he spread the map out on the bonnet of the Impala.

Dean signalled to Bobby to grab a pen and paper. After reading out Sam's cell phone number he waited for a second, then started writing furiously.

"Thank you so much, you've been a real help." Dean hung up and gave the piece of paper to Bobby. "That's where the signal's coming from."

Together they studied the map. It wasn't good news. The trace on the cell's signal was accurate to within a few hundred feet, and the information Dean had been given suggested that Sam was half an hour or so away from Jordan's Crossing. If he was really there then Bobby would've spotted him.

"Shit." They both announced to the world, and then stared at each other for a second, both seeing the fear in the other man's eyes.

Without another word they got into their vehicles and drove off in the direction Bobby had come from, with Dean in the lead.

Fear being his real driving force now, Dean sped up the road to the spot they'd pin pointed on the map. There were a few tight bends at this point, but nothing the Impala couldn't handle. As Dean slammed on the brakes the car obediently skidded to a halt. Hearing Bobby's truck repeating the manoeuvre at a slightly slower pace, he grabbed his flashlight and leapt out, staring all around him at the landscape, desperately searching for a car. Finding nothing, Dean turned worried eyes on to the older hunter as he approached.

But Bobby wasn't paying any attention. He was staring at the ground, then he went into a crouch.

Dean followed his gaze. Tread marks.

"Dean. I know these tires; I fitted some just like them on the car Sam borrowed to come find you." Bobby spoke in a low voice.

Dean, not doubting his friends' tracking skills for an instant, followed the marks with his eyes until they ended abruptly some feet from the side of the road. Then he started running.

Skidding to a halt at the edge he glanced down, shining his flashlight. Dean gasped at the long rocky slope, which started out as a shallow decline then quickly became steep. Noting the broken glass lying around and gouges in the soil, he realised there'd been trouble here. Climbing down quite a way, he came to an outcrop, the light of the beam picking out the rocky surface and showing fresh scars with red paint etched into them.

Moving on, and hearing Bobby behind him, Dean searched frantically until he saw something gleam as it caught the light. He increased his speed until it came into view below him.

"Bobby, what car was Sam driving?"

Bobby looked in the direction Dean indicated with his flashlight, and his heart sank.

"An old red SUV. The only one I had that was up and running."

Dean took off down the rest of the slope. "Sammy!"

He got to within a few feet of the car, and stopped to stare in horror.

The SUV was in a very sorry state up against a tree, lying on the driver's side, the whole vehicle having pretty much concertinaed in on itself. If it hadn't been for who was inside, it might have made the world's most laughable impression of a beetle almost on its back.

"Sam!" Dean started yelling as he ran around to the front of the car. He couldn't see through the shattered glass of the windshield, and so had to scramble up to the passenger side of the car, balancing on the buckled door.

Dreading what he was going to see, he shone his flashlight through the passenger window.

"Oh god no." Dean whispered, then shouted "Sam!"

There seemed to be blood everywhere, particularly on Sam's too pale face. There was a nasty looking cut above his eye, but the blood had congealed into a clotted mess. Lying on his back against the driver's door, his body twisted at an awkward angle, he wasn't moving and his eyes were closed.

"Shit Sammy, talk to me. Let me know ya still here ok?" Dean called desperately, as he cleared away the remaining shards of glass in the passenger window and slid in through the gap. With the car so badly twisted and buckled it proved to be a tight squeeze, but Dean finally made it. Lowering himself as best he could he found a way of lying next to Sam in the small space, ignoring the feelings of claustrophobia.

Dean frantically checked Sam's neck for a pulse. At first he couldn't find it and he started panicking. "Shit! Sam don't you dare leave me, ya hear?"

Then suddenly he felt a faint thumping beneath his fingertips. Dean slumped a little, resting his forehead against his brother's.

Sam was breathing but in short rapid breaths, his chest and abdomen restricted by the steering column rammed up against it.

"You love scaring the shit out of me or something little bro?" Dean enquired. Sam seemed determined not to answer.

"Bobby! He's still alive, call 911!" Dean tried gently shaking his brother to elicit some kind of response, but got nothing. "Come on Sam, wake up. Talk to me." He shrugged out of his coat with difficulty in the tight space and placed it over his brother's shoulders.

There was a thud and some scuffling before Bobby's face appeared in the passenger window. He stared down at the brothers, cell phone already against his ear waiting for the connection; Bobby had heard Dean's anguished shout before disappearing into the car and now his brow furrowed at what he had to tell him next.

"Dean. The engine's stone cold."

Dean looked at Sam, his eyes wide.

_He must have been trapped here for hours!_

Grabbing his flashlight, he gently pried Sam's eyelids open and checked the pupils, which seemed to be behaving normally in the intense light. So far so good. Then he checked the cut above Sam's eye, brushing away the locks of hair that hadn't been glued down by blood. It seemed to be of no further danger.

Dean began the lengthy process of checking Sam for other injuries, which was no picnic in such a confined space. With a few muffled thuds and curses as he caught elbows, knees and a host of other body parts on various protruding sharp edges, he did the best he could.

Sam's skull was a patch work quilt of bumps and bruises, probably from being slammed against the window. His left arm was trapped under the dashboard; Dean had tried to gently tug it free but it was held fast. Shining his torch underneath he saw that his brother's arm had caught on a piece of broken metal; he could see bone gleaming white in the glow of the flashlight, blood shining brightly. Compound fracture. Not good. Dean reflected bitterly that Sam had only had a cast removed from his other arm not so long ago.

He carried on with his checks. The steering wheel was going to be the most complicated problem from what he could see, jammed tight up against Sam's chest. Dean carefully undid Sam's over-shirt and pulled up his t-shirt as best he could. He couldn't see much in the dim light, but what he did see scared him. The bruising had spread all the way down to the line of his brother's jeans. Sam must've have been shoved about a fair bit by the car's descent, until it buckled and wedged him in tight. Dean could tell that this was going to be a tricky one to get out of without causing further injury.

Moving on to Sam's legs, Dean shone the light under the dashboard once again. Long denim-clad limbs stretched off into the twisted metal. He wasn't even going to attempt to tug his brother free; it was too risky. There was a lot of blood down here, and Dean couldn't tell just how damaged his brother's legs actually were.

Dean sighed in worry and frustration. There was literally nothing he could do for Sam, except stay by his side in case he woke up. And there was no way he was going to let his little brother wake up alone in this hell hole; he had enough nightmares keeping him busy as it was.

Dean took hold of Sam's free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze; his other hand reached up to stroke his siblings hair, as much to comfort himself as his unconscious brother. He started talking to him in a low voice.

"Hey Sam. You can wake up now, ok? I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything else happen to you. You listening to me bro? You're gonna be ok Sammy."

He vaguely heard Bobby's voice "Dean? They're sending a chopper, should be here soon." His face appeared at the window again. "How's he doing?"

"I don't know Bobby. I can't tell how badly he's hurt under all this mess. There's so much blood…." Hearing the anguish growing in his own voice, Dean tried to compose himself. He took a deep breath and glanced back up at Bobby. "I just don't know."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam knew something was terribly wrong. He had to get to his brother but couldn't seem to move or open his eyes. His body wanted to do the very opposite of what he was demanding of it.

_Come on!_ He mentally screamed at himself. _Move! Dean's been hurt and needs your help, now move your ass Winchester!_

This little pep talk within the confines of his head seemed to give him a boost, and he felt his eyelids sluggishly begin to obey the command to open. Then they faltered.

_Don't' you dare! Don't you fucking dare…__"_

His eyelids moved again as recent events came stomping back.

_The coach, the evil grin of its driver as it sent him over the edge. The car rolling and rolling, never seeming to stop, __then__ nothing._

Sam heard someone calling his name, someone talking to him.

_"…You can wake up now ok? Y__ou're __gonna__ be ok Sammy…"_

There was only one person that ever called him by that ridiculous childhood name.

_"I don't know Bobby. I can't tell how badly hurt he is under all this mess….."_

Hearing the fear in Dean's voice, Sam struggled once again to open his eyes and groaned in frustration when it didn't happen. Sensing someone was holding his hand, he gave it a feeble squeeze.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"I just don't know," whispered Dean.

Suddenly he heard a low moan and felt a weak tugging on his hand. Glancing back at Sam, he gasped.

"Bobby! He's coming round." He leaned closer to his brother, as if somehow lending strength in exchange for the world of pain that undoubtedly awaited Sam.

"Come on you can do it. Come back to me Sammy." He muttered against Sam's ear, taking in the scent of his little brother that was as familiar to him as his own. He didn't let up on stroking Sam's head, and carried on talking softly, encouraging and cajoling his sibling into waking up.

Sam used his brother's voice to navigate his way through the blackness, until he opened his eyes and gasped in pain, panting heavily as his predicament caught up with him.

"Ahhh Gaadd…" He started to panic when he realised he couldn't take a deep, full breath, and his chest felt as though it had a heavy weight resting on it. Glancing wildly around him, and feeling claustrophobia setting in when he saw how closely confined the space was, he started to struggle. This caused him even more agony, but he didn't care. He felt trapped and scared and wanted to get the hell out.

Someone gently but firmly held him still.

"Sam calm down, you could hurt yourself some more." Dean's voice spoke softly to him, and Sam eyes began to focus on his older brother's face leaning over him.

"De…Dean?" He managed to rasp out. "That you?"

Dean gave Sam one of his most cockiest and self-assured grins. "Yeah little bro, it's me. Found you wrapped round some freakin' great tree, halfway down the ass-end of god knows where and thought it best to drop in and say hi."

Sam tried to laugh but it turned into a gasp as his chest and abdomen protested at the movement.

"Take it easy bro." Dean's grin disappeared to be replaced by concern, as Sam seemed to grow paler still. Soothingly, he carried on muttering softly as Sam struggled to breathe "Take it easy and just relax, ok?"

After a moment Sam nodded, but Dean could see the effort it was costing him to stay calm.

"Y…you….ok Dean?" Sam winced as he looked at the damage to Dean's face.

Dean gave a short laugh. "Dude, I'm not the one trapped under a steering wheel and a ton of metal." Seeing the worried look on his brother's face, he sobered a little. "I'm fine Sam. A little battered and bruised, but otherwise I'm ok. How 'bout you?"

"…can't…feel…my l-legs." Sam managed to rasp out.

Dean's blood ran cold on hearing that, but kept a cheerful grin going. "It's nothin' Sammy, just you freakin' out again. Your legs have just gone to sleep with all this sitting around you've been doin' is all. Get some exercise for once, before you become a god damn couch potato." He sounded way more confident than he felt, but it earned him a small smile from his brother

The car, finally adjusting to the additional weight and movement, chose that moment to settle against the tree with a metallic groaning noise.

Sam gave out a strangled gasp as the movement jarred the steering column, sending a bolt of agony through him. He started hyperventilating again.

"De….h..help me p…please.." he voice became weak and his eyes began to roll back.

Dean's eyes widened with intense worry, and he spoke in his best John Winchester voice. "Sam? You stay awake you hear me? Don't you give up on me! I know it hurts but you have to stay awake. Now open those eyes you stubborn little bastard!"

Sam blinked heavily, fighting back the darkness, trying to obey his brother. As the pain eventually subsided, his vision cleared.

"D….." he tried to speak but couldn't find the energy.

"Shhh Sammy. Stay still and don't try to talk ok?" Dean adjusted his position a little so that Sam wouldn't have to move too much to see his face, knowing that he was Sam's only anchor. Nothing else could keep him here.

They both heard the sound of blades chomping through the night air as the helicopter flew over head, landing in a nearby clearing.

"You hear that Sammy? Help's on the way!" Dean smiled down at him.

Sam returned it with a weak smile of his own and nodded to show he understood. Dean wondered how long his brother's ability to understand anything at all would hold out.

There was some shouting from outside the car and Sam recognised Bobby's voice.

"Over here! Hurry!"

Pounding feet and more voices could be heard coming closer.

"…he's trapped in the driver's side…."

"Is he awake?"

"He is now, but he may have been lying there for hours. He was unconscious when we arrived…."

There was more conversation carried out in short sharp professional tones as the emergency staff gathered as much information as they could.

Someone clambered up to the passenger side and peered through the opening, a flashlight shining in the brother's faces.

"You ok down there?" asked the technician.

Dean shielded his eyes from the light. "I'm ok, but my brother's trapped behind the steering column and his arm's broken. I think his legs are trapped too." With a brief glance at Sam he continued "he says he can't feel his legs."

"Ok sir. I need you to come out so I get in there and treat your brother…."

Sam, on hearing that, reacted badly. "No…De…Dean. Don't leave me…p..please," he rasped out, starting to panic again. He needed Dean to stay with him; he was terrified that if his brother left him he would slip away again, and if that happened he wasn't sure he could make it back.

"Shhhh. It's ok bro. I'm not leaving you here," Dean turned his head back to the EMT fixing him with the full force of his glare. "You want me outta here, you're gonna have to come get me," he growled.

"Sir…" The guy tried to continue, knowing full well is was useless to argue.

"Anything Sam needs I can help with." Dean could see he was winning, but helped things along by adding "My brother won't trust anyone else, he'll hurt himself first. I trained as an EMT in Canada before coming back here." That last wasn't entirely a lie; he _had_ acted as his Dad and brother's own personal medic whenever they'd been injured on a hunt, and he was pretty damn good at it.

The medic nodded resignedly. "What's your brother's name?"

"Sam Harrison. I'm Dean."

"Well Dean, I'm Max. Nice to meet you, given the circumstances." Max gave Dean a small grin. "Here, put this round Sam's neck." He passed something white through the window.

Dean gave him a worried smile as he took hold of the neck brace.

He leaned over Sam, who blinked up at him wearily. "Sam, This guy's name is Max. He's gonna be helping us get you outa here, ok?" At Sam's nod, Dean gently eased the neck brace round and under his brother.

Sam was feeling confused, scared, and, as a result of his inability to breathe properly, not to mention the numerous whacks on the head, was gradually losing the thread of things. He was glad his brother was with him, but he still wasn't sure he understood what was going on. He knew he was trapped in one of Bobby's cars, and that the situation was bad, but he couldn't concentrate on much else. When Dean placed something under his neck he stiffened a little. He tried to relax, telling himself that his brother was trying to help him. But when Dean strapped something across his throat, he started to struggle again.

"Hey hey! Sammy, it's ok. It's just a neck brace to help keep your head still. It's to protect you. Alright?" Dean was starting to wonder how in hell they were going to treat Sam if he kept freaking out every few minutes.

As if to answer his question, Max reached out and grasped his shoulder. "Here. Set up this IV. We need to get some fluids into him and it's got pain meds, which should help relax your brother enough without sending him to sleep."

Dean looked up at Max gratefully. "Thanks man."

He turned back to his brother.

"Sam, I'm gonna put an IV line in your arm ok? Its gonna help ease the pain." Dean held his brother's gaze and waited until Sam agreed.

Dean set to work placing a hypodermic in Sam's arm.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bobby had stayed for a while, but there was little he could do to help. The EMTs knew what they were doing, and they were discussing the best way to cut Sam free whilst causing him as little further damage as possible. But first they had to make sure he was stable.

Bobby had something nagging at the back of his mind. He knew some of the history of this road and his subconscious had been trying to attract his attention. Bobby headed back up the slope, wheezing a little when he got to the top. Not as young as I used to be, he thought to himself.

Staring at the road for second, he moved over to the tire marks.

And there it was, exactly what he'd been looking for.

Faintly outlined in a thin layer of mud was a set of wide blank tire marks, which followed those left by the SUV, right up to the edge of the road.

A large vehicle, possibly a bus of some description with no tread on its tires, had run Sam Winchester off the road and left him for dead.

Bobby stared into the night. He had a good idea what had gone down here, and he hoped to god he was wrong.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The IV slid into Sam's arm easily and Dean heaved a sigh of relief, handing the bag to Max who hooked it up to something Dean couldn't see. Sam had barely blinked during the entire process, trusting him completely.

"Ok Sam?" Dean asked softly.

Barely able to nod with the neck brace, Sam whispered "Yeah." He swallowed hard, trying to keep awake. "Dean, what's going on?" He could feel the pain meds kicking in already, and he had an almost desperate need to know what was happening outside.

Dean glanced up at Max who was talking to someone out of sight.

"Hey Max! What's the deal? You guys gonna get us outta here?"

Max turned back to Dean, speaking quickly and clearly. "They're gonna take the roof off the car, but they need to remove the windshield first. Then we can get a better idea of how to handle things from here on out." He handed something down to Dean. "Clip this to Sam's finger. Once we've established he's stable enough, we'll get started."

Dean took the device and did as instructed. He prayed and hoped it would show that Sam's heart rate and oxygen saturation were normal. Almost immediately, Max handed an oxygen mask and a length of tubing down to Dean. "His sats are too low, but this should help bring them back up a little." At Dean's concerned look he added kindly "Sam's chest is tightly trapped which means he can't breathe in full, and he's lost an unknown amount of blood, so it's to be expected that he's a little low on oxygen. Go ahead, I've turned it on already."

"Right. Thanks." Dean nodded. He looked into Sam's eyes as he tried to fix the mask over his mouth and nose.

Sam tried to turn his head away. He didn't want that thing over his mouth. He wanted to be able to talk to Dean, even if talking hurt.

"No D-Dean, p-please don't…." He was getting too weak to fight him and Dean knew it.

He hated himself for putting Sam through this; his little brother had always been afraid of these masks ever since he was a small child and had to wear one all through a bad bout of pneumonia. They frightened him almost as much as clowns.

"Damnit Sam…" He had forced the mask onto Sam's face, who immediately dragged it away with his free hand.

Grabbing his brother's wrist gently, he forced Sam to look at him, his voice hard with desperation. "Sam, you can't breathe properly and you need oxygen." Dean gave him a sad smile and softened his approach a little. "I know you hate this, but we have no choice little bro. Understand?"

Sam nodded slightly, his eyes fearful and filled with confusion, his breathing coming in short gasps as if to emphasize the point his brother was making.

Dean lowered the mask onto Sam's face, holding it there for a second before lifting it again and asking softly,

"Do you trust me Sam?"

Sam stared up at him and whispered back "always."

Sam closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of the clear plastic covering his mouth and nose, telling himself that it was there to help, not hurt him. Dean wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

Dean held the mask firmly in place for a few minutes to make certain that Sam didn't try to remove it again, then secured it with the straps, tightening them gently at the side of Sam's head.

Sam opened his eyes again as Dean went back to holding his hand and stroking his long hair.

_God he looks so young. I don't think I've ever seen him this terrified._

Max called down to them. "I'm gonna pass down the shield. It'll protect you from any sparks or shards of glass and metal. Put it round the both of you."

Dean took the metallic canvas and wrapped it round himself and Sam, covering them. As an extra precaution, Dean covered his brother's upper body with his own as best he could.

Max called out again "We're good to go. You guys ready? This is gonna get rough."

Dean stared at Sam, face inches from his. "You ready? I'm here. I won't let you go, I promise." He could just about make out Sam's hesitant "yes." Then Dean stuck a thumbs up out from beneath the canvas to Max, who in turn gave a signal to someone on the outside.

There came the sound of glass breaking as the windshield was removed. Dean couldn't see what was being used but guessed it was some kind of hammer. He felt the glass shards bouncing and sliding harmlessly down the shield.

Next, the whole car started to vibrate slightly as a metal claw grasped onto the car's frame at the front passenger side corner, and, with a deafening screech, started tearing at the roof. The vibration became a violent shake as the claw chewed through the metal frame, and the resulting movement had Sam suddenly writhing in pain as the steering column and everything else shook with it.

Dean's heart broke when he heard his brother crying out, albeit muffled by the oxygen mask.

Sam's face was contorted with the agony striking his chest, but still he held Dean's gaze.

Dean carried on staring into Sam's eyes. "Remember what I said. I won't let you go. Stay with me Sam. Block it out and keep breathing."

Sam did as his brother commanded; sweat poured down his face as he fought the pain.

There was a loud clunk as the claw made it through, and the shaking stopped.

Sam's breath came in painful gasps which began to recede.

Dean rested his forehead against Sam's, breathing heavily. "You ok Sam?" He lifted the mask a little in order to hear the breathless reply "_yeah."_

"Ok, buddy. That's one down."

They had stared at each other throughout the ordeal, Sam occasionally screwing his eyes shut against the pain when it became intense, but otherwise meeting his brother's eyes when he could. Time seemed to slow to almost a standstill.

Next up, the middle section dividing the front and rear passenger doors became detached from the roof and Dean winced a little at the noise it made. He hoped and prayed for Sam's sake that this wouldn't take long, but he knew differently.

An eternity later another loud clunk indicated that the other passenger corner had given way.

"That's three down little bro. Half way there!"

Sam was tiring but struggling valiantly to stay awake. Dean didn't even have to tell him to keep his eyes open, he just stared deep into his older brother's eyes, drawing strength. He could feel Dean's hand tight in his own, could feel Dean's other hand on his head, making soothing circling motions through his hair.

The emergency team started on the corner behind the driver's seat, and Sam briefly closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. And all the while, Dean never left him, kept talking to him and letting him know what was happening at all times.

Pretty soon the third corner gave way, and the team moved onto the lower central section right beside the brothers. There seemed to be a little trouble with this one, mainly because it was a difficult angle to get the claw into. In the gloom of the canvas shield and flashlight Sam could see Dean's eyes shining with unshed tears, the smile on his face almost desperate. His brother was suffering just as much as him, had always hated seeing Sam in pain. He knew that Dean would gladly trade places with him in a heartbeat if he could, and that thought gave Sam the strength he needed to get through this.

The middle section was finished with. The last corner was next and this was the one Sam and Dean were both dreading. This was the corner closest to Sam, which meant that this one was really gonna hurt.

They weren't wrong.

As the claw grabbed onto the driver's side corner, the steering column gave a violent lurch. Sam yelled into the confines of the oxygen mask, tears running down his face and mixing with the sweat and dirt that had already accumulated. Dean did his best to hold him still as his brother's body attempted to buck beneath him.

When the final corner eventually gave way, Sam slumped, whimpering in short breaths that tore once again at Dean's already fragile heart.

He heard Max call out "they've freed the last corner. Now they're gonna lift the roof off."

"Hold tight Sam," whispered Dean. "They're soon getting us outta here."

Gently, the roof started to lift as several pairs of hands joined in the effort. All of the emergency staff had heard the pain Sam was in, and were trying to make the next few stages as quick and simple as possible for him.

There was a crashing noise as the roof was thrown to the ground, and both Winchesters felt the change in air pressure when it was gone.

Dean leaned down to speak in his brother's ear "you still with me Sammy?" He got a feeble nod in return.

Dean shrugged the canvas shield off, sat up and stared around, his actions resembling that of a merekat. There were at least three or four medics, and twice as many fire fighters. He noted that the hood had also been removed at some stage.

"Hey guys!" Dean announced with a weary grin. "If you wanted to come in you only had to knock." There were several snorts of laughter at that, but all emergency professionals very quickly turned their attention back to the task of cutting Sam free.

Max and another EMT approached the brothers carrying various pieces of medical equipment.

"Dean, this is Chris." Dean nodded at the other technician, who returned it with a reassuringly professional smile. "He's going to help me monitor Sam whilst the fire crew assess the best way of cutting him free." He could tell that Dean was about to protest and added "you can stay with Sam, but we may need you to move aside. In the meantime," Max signalled to one of the fire crew, "we need to get that driver's seat out or none of us'll have room to help your brother."

The fire fighter introduced himself as Steve and got to work on the seat. It wasn't difficult to remove. During the "accident" the seat had come loose as Sam had been forced round the steering column and against the driver's door. Then the seat had buckled along with the car tipping Sam off completely.

Within a few seconds Steve had removed it, allowing Dean a bit more room to move and the EMTs more space to treat Sam.

Dean leaned in close to his brother "ya hear that Sammy? We'll soon be outta here. Ok little bro?"

Sam looked up gratefully at Dean. He had kept saying "we" and "us". It was an odd thing to note under the circumstances, but Sam's rather befuddled brain found it comforting.

Dean moved slightly away from Sam to let Max and Chris do their job, but made sure he stayed close enough to hold his brother's hand. Sam started to panic when Dean moved out of his line of sight.

"Shhh Sam. I'm right here. It's me holding your hand, but I have to give these guys room to help you." Dean felt Sam relax a bit on hearing that.

Max and Chris started administering to Sam, injecting morphine. Dean hadn't been too keen on that idea, but then neither Winchester had ever liked being so out of it. Max had to explain a few things.

In a low voice so that only Dean could hear he told him, "Sam's in for a rough time. When they start cutting him free it's gonna hurt, particularly when they try getting him out from behind that steering wheel. You've seen the hell he's been through so far?" Dead nodded in anguish, seeing where this was going, "well it's about to get a lot worse. And that's before they attempt to get his legs free, and we still have no idea of the damage that's been done yet."

"Just do what you have to." Dean swallowed hard, and whispered "He's all I've got left. Please don't let him die."

Max put a hand on Dean's shoulder "He's in good hands."

And that was the closest Dean was going to get to any guarantees. He sat back and watched as Sam's eyelids started to droop under the influence of the drug. Giving Sam's hand a quick squeeze he very briefly moved back into his line of sight just before his brother's eyes closed.

Steve, after throwing the seat aside, started leaning over Sam and examining the dashboard. He called over to one of his colleagues, who came running with a tool box. Together they began working on removing the steering column.

Chris frowned at the monitors he'd hooked up to Sam "Max? I'm increasing the oxygen supply; his sats are dropping again."

Max glanced at his colleague "Right" was all he said and carried on examining his patient, checking his pupils, opening various packages. As he checked over Sam's skull, he reached out for gauze, which Chris passed to him without saying a word or even looking up.

Dean had been watching the two EMTs closely. They had a routine going and seemed to know what the other was thinking. He got the impression these guys had been working together for some time. Smiling, he thought of how he and Sam had become such a good team, with absolute trust and faith in each other's abilities.

Steve soon had the steering column loosened, and with a bit of help from his colleague, tugged it free as gently as they could. There was an audible gasp from Sam, his chest was now rising and falling freely.

Steve's colleague set about removing the entire dashboard.

Max cut away Sam's shirt and gently examined his chest and stomach. The bruising was horrendous but that was to be expected. He couldn't tell if some of the bruising was down to internal injury though it wouldn't have surprised him. So far as he could make out, Sam had probably broken a few ribs but, judging by the clear healthy sounds coming from his chest, by sheer luck his lungs were still in one piece. Max shook his head, amazed at the kid's good fortune.

Dean felt himself finally able to breathe properly now that Sam was able to. Ok so they still had a lot to face, in particular Sam's earlier comments about not being able to feel his legs, but if he could breathe then he would live.

The rest they could deal with. Together.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Up on the road it was becoming evident that the ending wasn't going to be quite so happy. Bobby made a phone call.

"Ellen?"

Ellen Harvelle was instantly on the alert. Bobby wouldn't have called so late unless something was seriously wrong. "Bobby? Everything ok?"

"No. Sam's been in a car accident, only I'm not sure it _was_ an accident."

"What? Is he ok? What about Dean?"

Bobby sighed. "Dean's ok. He wasn't in the car at the time. Sam was out looking for him not far from Jordan's Crossing, when something…happened, I'm not sure what but I can guess. I'm damned certain another vehicle was involved." He felt his frustration mounting. "Sam's trapped in the car and not doing too good."

Ellen closed her eyes "Oh god." Then her eyes flew open. "Did you say Jordan's Crossing?"

"Yeah."

"Oh shit, Bobby that place is cursed."

"I know."

"If Sam crossed paths with that evil bastard in the coach, it'll come after him. It won't leave him alone."

"I know that too, Ellen! I don't need remindin'!"

"Bobby, you'd better tell Dean if either of 'em are gonna stand a chance against this. He won't stop 'til he finds him. Sam's marked now."

Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly "I _really _wish you hadn't said that."

The youngest Winchester seemed to be marked by everything and anything that he came into contact with. He may not have psychic visions anymore, or telekinesis, but that didn't stop him being hunted by humans and demons alike. And now, possibly, a ghost.

But Ellen was right. If this curse had touched Sam, and Bobby was ninety percent certain it had, then he was in real trouble. In fact, it would probably go better for Sam if he died right now, with his brother beside him. Because when that curse caught up with him, and it would, his soul would be lost for eternity. There would be no afterlife for Sam, no seeing his mom, dad or Jess, and no prospect of ever seeing Dean again. He would be taken on board that damn coach, with the rest of the unfortunates who had happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and never be allowed to leave.

And in this job _never_ was a damn long time.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The fire fighters wasted no more time on attacking the engine bay. Dean couldn't see what was going on, but there was an awful noise coming from the front of the car. Sam, floating on a cloud of morphine, didn't seem to care.

Max had moved round to the front of the vehicle to keep an eye on things, whilst Chris continued monitoring Sam.

Dean barely took his eyes off his brother throughout the two hours that followed. He'd lost track of time long ago when he'd first realised his brother was missing. Sam was worryingly pale and sweat glistened on his skin. The car was rocking slightly as the fire fighters worked to cut out the engine block.

Max shone his torch into the gradually widening gap. It had been tough going since the entire engine had been warped and twisted. They'd taken their time, conscious of any further injury that could have been caused for Sam if they rushed the job and made a mistake.

Dean heard Max shout.

"I can see his legs"

Dean let go of Sam's hand for a second and leaned forward to see Max's flashlight. Sam was almost free. He settled himself and went back to watching over Sam.

With a final clunk most of the engine came loose and Max moved in, seating himself inside. Winking reassuringly at Dean he checked Sam over carefully. There were a number of cuts and abrasions present but nothing serious. Cautiously, he ran his hands down Sam's thighs, knees and calves, checking for broken bones. He frowned when he reached Sam's right shin bone; something felt wrong here. He looked at Dean through the wreckage of the dashboard.

"I think his shin bone is broken," Max carefully felt round the break and winced "at a guess, I'd say in several places. That's the bad news. The good news is that's all I can find so far. Hey Chris? How we doing?"

Chris had been working on getting Sam's left arm free. It had been a messy business because Sam's arm had proven to be as stubborn as its owner. It kept on bleeding and simply wouldn't budge. In the end he'd had to get one of the fire fighters to cut around the metal holding the arm prisoner. And now, with Dean's assistance, Chris was attempting to splint Sam's broken arm with an evil-looking sharp piece of metal still attached. It was buried deep and would require delicate surgery to remove it without causing long term muscle damage.

"Yeah we're ok." _Sort of_ Chris added silently, glancing at the mass of bandages that covered Sam's wounded arm.

Once Max had tended to the broken shin bone, it seemed there was no longer anything trapping Sam in the car, and it was time to move him.

There was a flurry of movement as a back board was placed next to what was left of the SUV. Dean blinked. Somehow, someway, the tree had been cut down and removed.

_When the hell did that happen?_

By this time the morphine was wearing off and Sam eyes were fluttering. As they got ready to roll him on to the board, Dean leaned over and smiled as his little brother's eyes edged open sluggishly.

"We're free now Sammy, they're getting ready to lift you out of here. Ok?" He whispered.

He just made out Sam's sleepy smile, then he moved back out the way. Watching over his brother Dean stood up and shoved his hands into his jean pockets, his brow crinkled with worry. With little effort Sam was securely strapped to the back board.

As Dean made to follow his brother he heard Bobby calling his name. He turned and saw the older hunter making his way down the slope to him. He gave a weary smile.

"Hey Bobby. They've just freed Sam. I don't know for sure but I think he's gonna be ok."

He looked closely at his friend, who seemed less than happy. "Bobby what is it?"

"Not now. But once we got Sam safe and settled we'll need to talk."

Dean stared at Bobby. "Ok, now you're scaring me." He tried to joke round it, but the look on Bobby's face suggested this was no laughing matter.

"Once he's at the hospital stay with your brother and don't let him outa ya sight. Be on your guard at all times. Ellen and I will be with you both soon and explain everything. Stick to Sam like glue. Don't forget to lay salt lines." He glanced over as the EMTs loaded Sam into the helicopter. "This aint over."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chris and Max between them prepared Sam for the flight. They were concerned, however, with the patient's reaction when he realised that his brother wouldn't be able to accompany him. But it was Dean's reaction that was really worrying them. They were both tired and in no mood for an argument.

They were to be pleasantly surprised.

Dean made his way back to Sam, a troubled look on his face. He had no idea what Bobby was talking about and wished the older hunter had told him more. He crouched down under the rotating blades of the chopper and smiled down at Sam, hiding his worries.

"You ok Sammy?" Dean lifted the oxygen mask a little.

"_Been better_." Came the breathless reply. Dean winced in sympathy; Sam's chest had to be hurting like a bitch.

But Dean covered his concern with a snort. "Yeah. I've had hangovers with less impact." His expression grew serious for a second. "I can't come with you on this flight, you understand that? If something went wrong there won't be enough room for these guys to work their mojo on you."

Sam gave a pained but understanding smile. _"Yeah.__ Like a….big girl like you…could cope...with flying on one of these things. Leave that…to the real men, huh?"_

Dean graced him with an affronted look.

"That wasn't called for bitch!"

_"Suck it up jerk."_

"Ya know Sammy? I think I liked you better when you were trapped under the steering wheel. Ya weren't so much of a smart-ass."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean watched as the chopper took off, carrying his brother to St Patrick's Memorial. Even before it was out of sight, he was scrambling back up the incline to the road. When he reached the top he glanced around. Bobby had already gone. There was just the Impala squatting there, waiting for him.

Without wasting any more time he was behind the wheel, turning the engine over and roaring away in to what remained of the night. Bobby had said this wasn't over, that Dean had to stay with Sam no matter what.

Which meant that Sam was still in danger. But how and why?

_Hang on Sam._ He thought to himself as he broke every speed limit known to man to get to St Patrick's.


	3. Chapter 3

**RTC Chapter 3**

**Then…**

_**"Bobby, what car was Sam driving?"**_

_**Bobby looked in the direction Dean indicated with his **__**flashlight,**__** and his heart sank.**_

**_"An old red SUV. The only one I had that was up and running."_**

**_Dean took off down the rest of the slope. "Sammy!"_**

**_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_**

**_"Do you trust me Sam?"_**

**_Sam stared up at him and whispered back "always."_**

**_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_**

**_"Bobby what is it?"_**

_**"Once he's at the hospital stay with your brother and don't let him outa ****ya sight. Be on your guard at all times. Ellen and I will be with you both soon and explain everything. Stick to Sam like glue. Don't forget to lay salt lines." He glanced over as the EMTs loaded Sam into the helicopter. **_

**_"This aint over."_**

**_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_**

**_Now…_**

Sam blinked a few times, trying to clear his head as his brother's hand gave him a final comforting squeeze on the shoulder before slipping away out from beneath the chopper blades. Eyes darting around the cab, he heard the rotor blades increase in speed, felt the roar of the chopper's engine as it built up enough power for lift off. Shifting his eyes over he could still see his brother watching him, hands in jean pockets, worry etched across his face. But as soon as Dean realised Sam was gazing at him, the worry disappeared to be replaced by the trade mark Dean Winchester Confidence grin. Dean winked at him, flinched slightly against the minor hurricane caused by the chopper powering up, then mouthed 'you'll be ok.'

Sam never took his eyes of Dean until the helicopter rose into the air and Dean was out of his line of sight. He swallowed hard against the rising panic. He was strapped in so securely that, even if he'd had the strength to, he couldn't move. His breathing, whilst easier than it had been when he was trapped by the steering column, was still shaky and drawing in a full breath proved painful. He desperately wanted to shift his position slightly as the ache in his back grew, in contrast to the panic-inducing lack of sensation in his legs.

Chris was monitoring Sam's vitals closely, and administering pain meds, as well as a host of other drugs that Sam had never heard of. In any case, he was fairly convinced he'd be high as a kite by the time the chopper landed. And, frankly, Sam was rather grateful for that.

Chris was a man of few words, Sam noticed, unlike his partner Max who was trying to engage Sam in conversation, whilst patching up the cut above his eye.

Sam was grateful for the attempt to keep him awake and calm, but it wasn't working.

And besides, it hurt too much to talk right now. The only person Sam was interested in talking to in any case was his brother.

Who wasn't here.

And why was that again?

He was a nice enough guy, but in all honesty, Sam just wanted Max to shut the fuck up.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean had been glancing out the side window of the Impala more often than could be considered safe, as he sped along the lonely road. He wasn't sure why. After all, the rescue helicopter with its precious human cargo should have been long gone, carrying his little brother to safety. He knew the chopper's top speed could easily outstrip his baby.

Dean just couldn't get those last images of Sam out of his head. His little brother, so trusting, had lain there immobilised and in pain, staring up at him. Dean's heart had ached as he watched Sam's pained efforts to breathe normally.

But it was the large ink-black clouds on the pre-dawn horizon that had Dean on edge, and when the first large drops of rain hit the windshield of the Impala, followed by the distant flash of lightning in the heavily laden gloom, his protective big brother instincts went on full alert. A few seconds later there came a horrendous crashing and booming as thunder made its presence known across the sky.

Sam.

Ignoring the steadily rising headache, completely forgetting that his ribs felt as though they'd been attacked by a sledge hammer, Dean put his foot down harder on the throttle.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam was drifting on a medicated haze when the Comms. Unit crackled a warning.

"Foxtrot 2 this is Central. Come in. Over."

"Central this is Foxtrot 2. I hear ya Tim." Replied the pilot.

"Hey Charlie. I gotta weather alert for ya; about two miles ahead there's a real wild one whippin' up. Should be pretty spectacular! Over."

"What's the status?"

"At this stage you can probably fly right under the thunderheads, but keep ya eyes peeled. This one could get outta hand pretty quickly."

Even drugged and dazed Sam could make out the concern in Charlie's voice.

"Tim? Any chance we can divert? There's an airfield not far from here."

There was a slight pause before Tim answered. "That's a negative. All airfields in the vicinity are on shut down 'cos of the storm; they were hit pretty bad." Small sigh. "You can either fly under it or land and take shelter. Personally I'd try the first option. There's still time before things get ugly."

The pilot nodded in understanding; the sooner they got Sam to the safety of St Patrick's the better for him. It wasn't the best terrain for landing, even for a chopper, but not impossible. And besides, shelter where exactly? There were no buildings nearby; in fact the long road to Jordan's crossing was the only evidence of civilisation at this point. It would have made life hell for the already suffering patient, and there were no real guarantees the cloud front wouldn't descend putting them all in danger once they were on the ground anyway. It already looked like it wasn't far off evolving into a furious storm and Charlie, realising this was their only window, came to a decision.

"Right. Thanks for the warning Tim. Foxtrot 2 out."

Time to fly with Tim's suggestion, he thought to himself with grim amusement. He had a nasty feeling about this storm front. It had appeared too quickly for his peace of mind, and was now changing and moving fast. Although he was no stranger to flying in extreme weather conditions, having recently completed a training exercise in the North Sea with the British Royal Navy, this one had an intensity about it that he'd personally never witnessed before. He nodded to his co-pilot.

The co-pilot glanced over her shoulder at Chris and Max. "Hold tight. S'gonna be a bumpy ride."

Immediately Max and Chris started checking over their patient, gently tightening straps and harnesses, re-securing IV lines, and further immobilisation of the inflatable splints on Sam's leg and arm.

Sam watched all this with a weird kind of detachment.

Good job Dean didn't come on this ride after all. He thought with a small smile. Would've scared the shit outa him.

Finally he felt Max check the braces that held Sam's head still, before wrapping a cuff around the biceps of Sam's uninjured arm.

Satisfied his patient's blood pressure was holding, Max nodded to Chris, then gently tugged another blanket over Sam's upper body. Sam blinked slowly up at him, grateful for the extra layer; it was getting chilly as the outside air temperature dropped dramatically and he started to shiver.

Chris glanced over at his colleague and frowned as Sam's heart beat picked up a little.

Max immediately sat himself down next to Sam and tugged his own safety harness onto his shoulders.

"It's gonna get a little rough for a while Sam," he grinned, "but don't worry. This is a tough old bird and she's been through worse. Been patched up and put back together more times than I can count."

He then proceeded to rattle off a number of tales of in-flight near misses; bad weather; an incident whereby a large bird, in a million-to-one chance, had flown directly into the rota blade and knocked the chopper out of the sky; a story about someone hitting the tail causing untold damage to the aircraft - and that was before the damn thing had left the ground!; and even one occasion that a ruptured tank and a faulty gage meant that they'd run out of fuel in mid air with no warning…all of which, funnily enough, did not offer Sam any reassurance whatsoever.

But it was when Max finished with

"Still, all the flight crew love her; she's their good luck mascot. After all, she's still flying eh? Hehe!"

that Sam finally closed his eyes in defeat.

Why do I always get the talkers?

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The rain was coming down harder now, and even with the wipers going at full speed Dean still struggled to see out. In fact he was struggling to keep the Impala from skidding out of control as the wind picked up and buffeted the car, and he'd been forced to slow down to a crawl. At one point he'd even had to stop, so violent was the weather.

How in hell did this storm get here so quickly!?

Gut instinct was telling him this had something to do with what happened to Sam ton…last night, he silently corrected himself as he glanced at his watch.

The dawn was now totally eclipsed by the storm front, and the sky was once again as black as night.

Dean tried not to think of Sam in that helicopter, just a few millimetres of metal between his brother and the elements.

…can't…feel...my l-legs.

"Sam," he whispered brokenly, trying desperately hard not think about it.

Once he's at the hospital stay with your brother and don't let him outaya sight…

Stick to Sam like glue…

This aint over.

Dean punched the steering wheel. Damnit

Smoke Over Water suddenly belted out from Dean's pocket. Even the heavily pounding rain on the roof of the car couldn't drown out Dean's favourite ring tone.

"Bobby?" Dean had to shout to hear himself speak.

"Dean? Where the hell are you?"

"Still on the road. Got caught in the storm."

"Yeah… We can see it from here. Ellen met up with me at St Patrick's a few minutes ago"

Dean's ears pricked up a little at the odd tone in his friend's voice. "What's wrong Bobby? Is Sam ok?"

"Dean…" Bobby's voice became hesitant.

"Bobby come on! Just tell me!"

"Sam's flight hasn't come in yet. We're all still waiting…but…"

"Just spit it out wouldya?" Dean growled angrily, his fear levels rising yet again.

So Bobby did indeed spit it out, causing Dean's stomach to clench painfully.

"They lost radio contact with the chopper about fifteen minutes ago." Bobby paused. "Dean, I'm so sorry…"

Dean pulled the wheel hard over bringing the Impala to an abrupt halt at the side of the road.

His voice was hoarse and angry "No…don't you say that! Sam's gonna be ok, I'd know it if he wasn't…"

But in truth, he had known, hadn't he?

His instincts had been screaming at him for the last hour that something was wrong. And when he saw the storm clouds forming…

Dean felt his chest tighten along with his stomach. Wrenching open the driver's door and dropping his cell phone into the foot-well, he stumbled out into the rain. Head pounding, muscles quivering violently, he dropped to his knees at the side of the road and vomited until all strength left him.

He didn't hear Bobby's anxious shouts on the still connected cell phone, as he collapsed sideways onto the grass verge, breathing heavily through his grief.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

When Bobby had arrived at the hospital he'd immediately spotted Ellen in the waiting room and headed towards her. Without saying a word Ellen had grabbed him up into a hug. They stood that way for a few minutes before Bobby pulled away staring at Ellen's distraught face.

"Are they here?" He asked.

Ellen shook her head. "Not yet. They should've arrived by now, but they think the storm held them up."

Bobby nodded his head wearily. "What about Dean? When did he get here?"

"He's not here yet either." Ellen replied, causing Bobby's frown to deepen.

"Shit." He strode away with Ellen in tow. "Come on. Let's get to the Heli-pad. The least we can do is be there when Sam turns up. Dean'll join us when he can."

But on arriving at the H-pad they were greeted by a flurry of panic.

Bobby and Ellen stood on the sidelines, hearing the worried shouts of the ground crew.

"…last thing we heard Charlie was taking her under the clouds."

"Where are they now?"

"We don't know! They were getting hit pretty hard, Tim said there was shouting on the radio…but we've heard nothing more from them since the storm got worse…"

For the second time in the last twelve hours, Bobby witnessed the arrival of Fire and Medical teams as they waited out the storm, searching the ravaged sky for a speck that might be a small rescue chopper.

But both Ellen and Bobby could feel the hopelessness behind the actions. This was just standard operating procedure.

One thing was for certain, no more aircraft would be taking off in this weather.

Bobby, with a heavy heart, hit speed dial. When the call was answered Bobby wasn't sure how to tell him.

"Dean…"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Dean? Dean! Are you ok? Answer me!" Bobby barked into his cell phone. "Damnit!"

He turned to Ellen. "The call's still connected but I think he dropped the phone."

"You don't think he…" Bobby cut Ellen off.

"No. I don't think he got hit by the coach. As far as I can tell The Driver only takes one soul in a night."

"It was a pretty big shock Bobby. May be he just needs time." Ellen turned sad eyes on to the stormy sky.

Bobby nodded morosely.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He could see Sam standing on the side of the road glancing round in confusion.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

An old style tour bus showed up and screeched to a halt beside Sam. But Dean could see there was something strange about it.

The eerie blue glow was a bit of a giveaway. That and the tires weren't touching the ground.

What the hell

His little brother stared up as the door squeaked opened.

Dean started running. "Sam no!"

He had no idea why but he just knew it would be a huge mistake for Sam to get on that damn bus.

But just as Sam turned to him, frowning…

…Dean gradually became aware that he was soaked and shivering with cold. With difficulty he pushed himself up, his chest and head still aching.

The rain was still torrential but Dean just sat there staring at the road ahead.

Then he got up, climbed behind the wheel, turned over the engine and started driving again.

He knew somehow that Sam was still alive.

In deep shit, yeah, he wasn't denying that. But very much alive.

One way or another, Dean was getting to that hospital.

And once Sam showed up Dean wasn't letting him go again.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Charlie eyed the clouds above with some concern. Already they were moving downwards with unnatural speed. He was starting to realise that he'd made a mistake.

Max and Chris stared at each other, trying to mask their fear for Sam's sake.

Sam eyes flew open as the first gust caught the small aircraft. He could hear tortured sound of metal groaning and several thuds as various pieces of equipment were knocked about in their housings.

Glancing over at the EMTs he saw their professional facades go up like shields. He knew what that meant. Be a hunter for long enough and you soon learned to spot the signs.

These men were genuinely scared.

Sam felt his breathing speed up. He couldn't seem to control it.

The winds grew stronger.

Damn. Thought Charlie. This wasn't quite hurricane force but it wasn't far off. Much more of this and he was gonna have to perform an emergency landing.

As soon as the words entered his head another stronger gust of wind buffeted the aircraft.

As the whole chopper lurched to one side, shaking violently, Sam felt something pop in his chest, followed by a sharp pain.

As he cried out, Max and Chris forgot their own fears. Concern for their patient taking priority, Chris frowned at the monitor as Max set about tending to Sam.

"Sam? Can you hear me? Where does it hurt?"

Breathing was becoming a huge chore now for Sam. "My…chest." He rasped out.

"Max, his sats are dropping again. What's goin' on man?" Chris called out.

Sam could feel a tight pressure growing in his chest as Max examined him.

"Looks like a pneumothorax. Probably because of a broken rib. We're gonna need to get that lung re-inflated." Max reached behind him for something that Sam couldn't see, not that he was paying attention. His vision was greying out and in spite of the mask he just couldn't seem to pull in enough oxygen.

Eyes at half mast, Sam could feel himself losing consciousness.

The chopper was buffeted violently several more times before there was a loud bang.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Foxtrot 2…" The pilot yelled frantically into the Comms. Unit.

Just as Max was about to insert a tube into Sam's chest, a bolt of lightning hit and the radio went silent.

"Shit!" The co-pilot fiddled with the dials. "Charlie the radio's fried."

And then as suddenly as it had started, the wind dropped.

Charlie held the control column tentatively as the chopper lurched a little before stabilising. "Ok. That was weird."

But his attention was drawn by the commotion in the back of the craft. Listening to the urgent voices of the EMTs, his worry grew.

"BP and sats dropping…"

"Come on Sam stay with me…"

"He's crashing…"

"Poor choice of words dude…"

"Get that damn tube in his chest, we gotta ease the pressure…"

"Ok we're in…"

"No change, cardiac arrhythmia."

"Shit! Sam come on!...He's stopped breathing. Are we cleared to intubate?"

"On my mark…"

A tube was forced down Sam's throat in a desperate attempt to get him breathing again.

Then the pilot heard Chris yell "He's going into cardiac arrest!..."

Sam opened his eyes and found himself at the side of a road. It looked frighteningly familiar.

Rubbing his aching chest he stared round. He got the feeling he was waiting for someone. Or something?

"Sam?"

Sam blinked. He knew that voice and he felt a comforting familiar presence.

At a loud screeching of brakes he swung back round to the road, only to find a strange looking bus standing there. It seemed to be expecting him.

The door squeaked open and Sam stared up at the driver. He was beckoning to him.

"Sam no!"

Now Sam knew who that voice belonged to.

He frowned and turned to stare out into the night, searching for his brother. But Dean wasn't there, and that comforting presence was gone.

Glancing back at the bus, Sam realised why this all seemed so familiar.

Shit!

He backed away trying like hell to control his fear, and started running. Somehow he had the sense that although this wasn't necessarily real, the ever present danger most certainly was.

The bus roared and, for the second time that night, took off after him.

Sam increased his speed as best he could but that coach was relentless.

He gasped at a sudden, horrendous pain in his chest, and his pace faltered.

It felt as though his heart was trying to beat a path up his throat and his lungs were on fire.

Sam stopped running and sank to his knees, clutching at his chest.

The coach screeched to a halt, and he heard the driver roar with anger, right before it disappeared.

Sam lost himself to blissful unconsciousness….

"….charge…clear…"

The co-pilot heard this routine once again after what seemed like the umpteenth time, and her heart sank.

But this time there was difference.

"Wait…" she heard Chris call.

The steady beat of the cardiac monitor signalled that Sam was back with them.

Max and Chris sat back exhausted, shaking their heads.

"Man that was way too close." Max stated firmly.

"Tell me about it. That kid sure is stubborn." Chris responded.

Several more sighs of relief followed as both EMTs considered the alternative: facing Dean Harrison with bad news about his brother was definitely not on their 'things they wanna do before they die' list. And besides, they kinda admired the brother's determination and support for each other.

"The H-pad's in sight!" The co-pilot called out pointing to a small patch of light in the darkness ahead of them. "ETA four minutes…"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean pulled up to the hospital, leapt out the car leaving the driver's side open as he raced through to the reception desk.

"Excuse me I'm Dean Harrison, I'm here for my brother. He's coming in on the flight from…"

"Ah yes. Your friends said you'd be here soon." The kindly receptionist gave him directions to the Heli-pad.

Dean thanked her and sprinted out the building.

A few seconds later he saw Bobby and Ellen and raced over, just in time to hear the sound of an aircraft limping and spluttering through the dark sky in the distance.

"Bobby that's them!"

"Yeah." Bobby smiled and shook his head in wonderment. "That brother of yours must have someone watching out for 'im"

Ellen reached out and gently squeezed Dean's shoulder.

Dean could feel the stupid grin on his face and made no attempt to hide it.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Everyone's relief was soon short-lived as the engine started to struggle.

The small chopper weaved about the sky and once again the pilot struggled to control it.

"What the hell's goin on?" Max called out as he tried his best to shield Sam from the worst of it.

"I don't know!" Charlie yelled back above the noise. "There's no control and we're losing power…"

The engine was snorting and huffing like a wounded wild boar as the pilot strained to maintain power and altitude for just a few more minutes.

It wasn't going to be enough.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The grin slid off Dean's face and he felt Bobby and Ellen tense up when it became evident that something was going drastically wrong.

Dean was the first to admit he was no expert on the principles of flight, but he was pretty sure the chopper shouldn't have been flying at that angle.

As the machine seemed to weave out of control, careening drunkenly across the skies, Dean found himself yelling in fear.

"Sammy! Noooooo!" Bobby was holding him back, and he just about heard Ellen sobbing.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam didn't regain consciousness during the remainder of the flight, which was just as well.

Max and Chris clung onto Sam's stretcher as best they could, to keep him steady and immobile as possible under the circumstances. But they both knew the truth of what was about to happen.

The chopper continued to plummet out of the sky, red lights flashed in the cockpit, and claxons started hammering out their warnings as the craft lost altitude…

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It was at this point that Bobby realised something.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Had to get my own back with an evil cliff hanger!

R&R and maybe I'll let you on to what Bobby was thinking.

Seriously, thanks for all your great reviews so far.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	4. Chapter 4

**RTC Chapter 4**

**Then…**

_**"Bobby, what car was Sam driving?"**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**"Do you trust me Sam?"**_

_**Sam stared up at him and whispered back "always."**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**"Sam's flight hasn't come in yet. We're all still waiting…but…"**_

_**"Just spit it out **__**wouldya**__**?" Dean growled angrily, his fear levels rising yet again.**_

_**So Bobby did indeed spit it out, causing Dean's stomach to clench painfully.**_

_**"They lost radio contact with the chopper about fifteen minutes ago." Bobby paused. "Dean, I'm so sorry…"**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**"Mayday! Mayday! This is Foxtrot 2…" The pilot yelled frantically into the Comms****Unit.**_

**_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_**

**_Max and Chris clung onto Sam's stretcher as best they could, to keep him steady and immobile as possible under the circumstances. But they both knew the truth of what was about to happen._**

**_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_**

**_The chopper continued to plummet out of the sky, red lights flashed in the cockpit, and claxons started hammering out their warnings as the craft lost altitude…_**

**_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_**

**_Now…_**

Dean watched fearfully, helplessly, as the chopper continued its uncontrolled descent. He felt his heart pounding, breath caught in his chest, vision wavering as he battled uselessly against the rising panic attack.

Hell. He hoped it was a full on lethal heart attack now, because a future without Sam, however short….

It just can't end like this.

He was vaguely aware that someone was trying to get his attention. Dean blinked rapidly, his breathing still laboured.

"DEAN!"

Bobby's hands were fisted in Dean's shirt, shaking him violently.

"Bobby? What…"

Bobby had dropped the backpack off his shoulders, rummaged through it and produced two bags of a crystalline substance. He threw a shotgun to Ellen.

Salt? What the hell?

One of the bags was shoved into Dean's hand.

"Snap out of it Dean! Sam needs ya! Now sprinkle this shit round the border of the Heli-pad." Bobby stared at him desperately when Dean didn't respond. "NOW GODDAMNIT!"

Dean broke out of his fit of depression and immediately set to work, occasionally glancing up at the chopper, now struggling even harder to stay airborne.

Bobby was also watching closely, and now the chopper was within range he yelled out "Ellen! The shotgun. Now!"

Ellen's gaze shot across to Bobby at the sound of his voice, and nodded. She knew what to do.

Raising the weapon, she took aim.

Dean's eyes widened. She was aiming at the chopper.

"Ellen! What the hell are you doing?!" He rushed over to try and stop her, but he was too late.

Ellen's body jerked at the recoil as she squeezed the trigger.

"ELLEN! NOOOO!"

Bobby raced over and dragged Dean away. "She knows what she's doin', now get to layin' that godamned salt!"

Dean couldn't tear his gaze away as Ellen ruthlessly fired off another shell.

Then he glanced up at the chopper and saw something strange happening.

As the chopper shuddered violently against the airflow, rocking and weaving in the turbulence created by the killer drag, an eerie blue glow had grown around it.

Dean had seen that blue glow before, and it scared him.

But as Ellen's cartridges sailed through the sky, that glow changed, as though it was fighting whatever force the shells had brought with it. Just before hitting the pilot's windshield, the shells exploded with a roar that sent a shock wave throughout the stormy sky, felling everyone on the ground.

What the hell was in those shotgun cartridges? Thought Dean in amazement.

Dean, Ellen and Bobby hit the deck of the Heli-pad and groaned at the impact.

But each kept their eyes on the aircraft, as its descent slowed dramatically, and the whole craft was surrounded by another weird light, vaguely reminiscent of a red St Elmo's fire.

But the big question remained. The altitude and airspeed had been raging out of control before Ellen's cartridges made contact.

Had it been impeded enough?

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"I can't hold on much longer!" The pilot yelled.

He could feel the angle the chopper was pulling. It was trying to roll, yawing at a ridiculous angle, and that really was the last thing they needed.

"Shit!" He added as the chopper lurched, fighting him again, now trying to pull into a flat spin, one which he knew there was no chance in hell of getting out of. These birds just weren't designed for this.

Max and Chris stared at each other for a long second, silently saying their goodbyes.

_They were Godfathers to each other's children. _

_Had been best man at the other's wedding. _

_Had grown up together._

_This was the job they'd both wanted to do._

_But, like most things we crave in life, and achieve, it came with a price. One they had both come to terms with a long time ago._

_Basically the conclusion was: sometimes shit just happens._

They took one last glance down at Sam, grateful that he wasn't awake to see witness this, but there was also regret that the young guy wouldn't live to see his brother again.

They now didn't think of themselves.

They now refused to think of their wives and children, or any other family and friends they'd be leaving behind.

That moment had come and gone.

So they did something that neither of them had done in a long, long time.

They prayed.

For Sam and his brother.

For they'd failed them both.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Charlie wrestled with the controls in desperation. He could see the lights of the Heli-pad below and off to the right, and felt hot tears coursing down his face.

They were so near yet so far.

No way were they going to make it.

The co-pilot gasped suddenly.

A blue light seemed to appear in front of them, but before they had time to think about it, something struck the air in front of the windshield, followed a few seconds later by something else. And the light turned red.

Just as Charlie was beginning to think that the whole world had gone crazy, and that his worst fears had been realised, the aircraft gave one final, bone jarring shudder.

And then fell back under his control.

It was nowhere near perfect. The angle of descent they'd come in at was riding against them, and the airspeed was way too fast.

But at least they had a chance.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Make ready!" Dean heard someone shout.

This was the first time since seeing the chopper go out of control that Dean, Bobby and Ellen became aware that other people were there to help should something go wrong.

Landing nets were brought out, in the hope that it would lessen the impact when the chopper hit, technicians calling to each other, getting…_things_…in place.

But Dean felt truly numb.

He stood, watching the struggling helicopter with his little brother on board, probably desperately clinging to life.

Desperately clinging to life.

That thought stopped him cold.

_I've tried so hard to keep you safe…_

Bobby and Ellen watched Dean from a safe distance, ready to go to him when needed. They'd seen the hope rise on his face as the chopper slowed in its violent journey, but now saw, with some heartache, that very same hope start to wane and wither, as the injured craft made its final descent with a blood curdling scream from its engine.

It was too fast, and too steep.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Charlie continued his struggle with a renewed faith, even though the engines were roaring in protest at the abuse. He'd tried pulling up but the craft just wouldn't respond, its descent too fast.

He remembered an after dinner speech he'd attended during the 1970s in England. The guest speaker, a former member of the RAF and one time Air Traffic Controller at Birmingham Airport, UK, had quite a lot to say about helicopters…

_'So you put on phenomenal amounts of power and it defies all known law, and lifts off._

_It should of course screw itself into the ground…' (The whole room had erupted with laughter _

_at this point)._

_'But it does lift off, and you just go crazy with the thing until you get it to a sensible height…._

_Then you hold the stick in one position, and then you watch what the helicopter does._

_'Cos if you want it to do that again? _

_That is where you put the stick. Right?' (More laughter)_

_'…It is a little bit hit and miss on a chopper. _

_Even the people that build them don't have a lot of faith. _

_They normally put...ah…wheels, skies and floats on them, so that you've got a fighting chance when you come back down…'_

And that had Charlie laughing.

He quickly steeled himself for the crash landing, prayed a little, then got stuck in.

_Gotta love the English._

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

This is it, Bobby thought. This is where we find out…

With a horrendous roaring of engines the chopper belly flopped onto the heli-pad, landing gear giving out as it was immediately crushed under the impact, the whole craft sliding some two hundred yards as the momentum piled the craft into the rear of the hospital. The rotas began eating into the conrete and sparks flew as metal ground on metal, the sound deafening, as metal was twisted and tortured against concrete, filling everyone's ears with the painful screeching that resembled that of a wounded wild animal.

Everyone was silent for a second as the stricken chopper gave out a bellow of smoke and one final groan.

In fact it was almost comical.

Until Dean heard the cry for help.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sam, in spite of what his medical protectors thought, had regained a certain amount of consciousness during the final impact.

He was in panic and turmoil, and not just from the strange foreign object he felt wedged in his throat.

The pain meds must have worn off, because he now felt intense agony all over his body. The familiar sensation of panic assaulted him as he tried to move, but found himself strapped down too tightly.

His eyes slid shut again as the pain overwhelmed him.

_Dean…._

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

It wasn't an audible cry. But something much deeper.

His kid brother was calling for him to take away the hurt and the fear.

Dean shook off the emotional barrage that held him prisoner….and ran, diving through the people that had now accumulated round the stricken helicopter.

"Sam!..."

Not even stopping for the ground crew to check that it was safe, he leapt over various pieces of wreckage and aimed for the sliding door of the chopper, the side door through which he'd last caught a glimpse of his baby brother.

Dean skidded to a halt and stared in anguish. The door was bent and twisted, much like the doors of the SUV, the vehicle of Sam's _first_ accident.

He grasped the door handle and gave it a sharp tug, but it wouldn't budge. Gripping it with both hands now, and putting all his body weight behind it, he roared loudly as he forced the door back on its runners.

It was dark and dusty inside so Dean pulled out his flashlight and switched it on. Sweeping the beam across the area where Sam's stretcher should have been, he felt panic setting in when he was met with empty cabin space. But a low groan caught his attention, and he brought the beam back up. This time the light caught the faces of the two EMTs Dean had met earlier, both blinking at the sudden bright light. Dean was glad to see the technicians were alive and didn't appear injured.

They were both sitting in safety harnesses, backs to the cabin wall looking somewhat dazed, but it was what lay between them that Dean was more concerned with.

Chris and Max were still clinging to Sam's stretcher.

"You guys ok?" Dean called out as he scrambled over to his brother.

"We're fine, just get Sam out. He needs help now!" Max coughed violently as more dust was stirred up by Dean's movements.

Chris was already freeing himself of the harness, and began checking the small portable ventilator for damage. He sighed with relief. It was still functioning normally in spite of the punishment it had endured, and oxygen was still getting into Sam's lungs. The kid's vitals weren't in the best of shape but that was to be expected. Things could have been a lot worse.

He looked up as Dean finally made it over to them, and heard the older brother gasp as he saw the ugly plastic tube in Sam's throat.

"What the hell happened?" Was the inevitable question, as he crouched by Sam's side. Both Chris and Max had been expecting it, and Chris answered straight away.

"Just as the storm hit us we got battered around. We had to secure Sam to stop him getting thrown about, but it got pretty turbulent…one of his ribs broke and punched a hole in his lung." He stopped when Dean appeared to grow pale under the glow of the flashlight.

Dean had been staring at Sam's bruised face, reaching out to stroke a few strands of hair away from his eyes, when his gaze shot up. "What else?" Dean's voice held a murderous intent.

Chris took a deep breath "He arrested at one stage and it took several turns with the defib to get him back. Whoa, take it easy…" He caught Dean as he swayed. Pushing his head down between his knees, he signalled to Max who nodded and grabbed an oxygen mask.

"Here take this; you need to take slow, even breaths but that aint a great idea with all this shit in the air." Max slipped the mask on Dean as Chris kept a firm grip on his arm.

After a few minutes Dean raised his head and nodded to indicate he was feeling ok. Removing the mask himself, Dean leaned over his brother, gently whispering in his ear.

"Hey Sammy. You see what ya doin' to me huh? Scarin' me shitless again." Dean sighed when his little brother didn't respond, then rested his forehead against Sam's for a second. "Let's get you outta here bro."

Max raised himself to a crouch. "Can you two handle this on ya own? I wanna check the pilot and co-pilot are ok." Chris and Dean nodded then prepared to lift Sam's stretcher between them.

As Max clambered up to the cockpit, his worry grew. There were no voices, no sounds of movement coming from the front of the chopper, and he soon found out why.

He'd hoped that the flight crew were merely unconscious.

He'd hoped for a lot of things but what he found…

Max stumbled back in shock, bent over at the waist and violently threw up.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean and Chris lifted Sam clear of the cabin floor and began the tricky task of picking their way along to the entrance. The way ahead was fraught with dangers from overhanging wires and debris strewn across the deck, threatening to trip the unwary and foolish.

Taking it as slowly and carefully as they dared, they both winced and ducked when a few wires, still jumping from the residual left over charge, erupted showering them all with sparks. Dean hunched over trying to protect Sam's face.

After pausing a few seconds to allow the wires to die down, they carried on shuffling carefully towards the cabin door, Sam's stretcher secure in their grip.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Ellen and Bobby had watched as Dean sprinted towards the downed aircraft. Bobby lunged forward to stop him but his fingers missed the back of Dean's jacket by inches and found themselves grasping at thin air.

"Dean come back!" He yelled after him. "It's not safe…"

Dean clearly wasn't listening and didn't slow down in his determination to get to Sam.

"Shit!" Bobby ripped off his baseball cap and scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. His main concern was the fuel tanks. If they'd ruptured during the crash then there was a very real danger of the craft going up in flames, taking both Winchesters with it.

But there was nothing Bobby could do about it now.

Turning to Ellen his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of something in the distance.

"Bobby?" Ellen turned to follow his gaze, and gasped. Under the gloom of the turbulent skies, she could just about make out a blue glow on the road.

It was bus-shaped.

And it was coming closer.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bobby picked up Dean's fallen bag and carried on frantically pouring salt around the Heli-pad, whilst Ellen re-loaded the shotgun. Feet shoulder-width apart, she kept the weapon aimed at the distant glow.

Bobby ran out of salt long before he ran out of Heli-pad, but he had the main areas covered and that had to be enough for now. It wouldn't hold The Driver at bay forever but may be just long enough to get Sam into the hospital where they could set up proper defences.

And besides, he'd yet to tell Dean exactly what they were dealing with.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean and Chris reached the opening then gently lowered the stretcher. The door had slid half way shut.

"Hang on." Chris called as he scrabbled at some wiring that had fallen down from above the door. Dean nodded then crouched by his brother.

"Nearly there Sam. Just hold on a little longer, ok?." He whispered as he touched a palm to the side of Sam's face. He froze when Sam frowned and leaned into Dean's hand. "Sammy? Can you hear me?"

Dean watched as Sam's eyes fluttered open and gazed at him briefly before sliding shut again. Smiling faintly, Dean gently rubbed away a piece of grime from Sam's forehead.

The look in Sam's eyes had been oddly reassuring.

He's still with me.

_That's my boy._

Chris cleared the entrance and moved back to the stretcher. "Let's go."

Cautiously making their way through the doorway and out onto the tarmac, they were swarmed with emergency teams. A doctor and several nurses dressed in scrubs got to work straight away. One tried to nudge Dean out of the way, but when Dean glared at him the nurse muttered something under his breath and left him alone.

A collapsed gurney appeared, carried by two orderlies, and Chris called out to Dean.

"Get ready to transfer him."

Between the two of them the safety harnesses were removed, Sam was unstrapped then gently lifted up and over to the hospital issue gurney, which was then raised up to full height.

Dean found himself separated from his brother within seconds, as Sam was wheeled away.

Chris placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Go on. Max and I will finish up here."

"Thanks man." Dean smiled at him gratefully, already breaking into a run to keep up with the medical team treating his brother.

With the back entrance to the hospital completely caved in by the nose of the downed chopper they had to enter the building via a side entrance, which thankfully was quite some way from the crash site.

Not really a believer Dean nevertheless glanced gratefully up at the crucifix above the door.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Max stumbled out of the chopper, still heaving from what he'd seen in the cockpit.

_The pilot's head was completely crushed by fallen concrete, body broken by the impact against the building. Large shards of glass were embedded in Charlie's chest._

_Blood was still trickling down his body, as various clinks and pings indicated that metal, once over-heated by friction, was now cooling rapidly._

_But the co-pilot….she was worse. Her head had been almost completely severed from her neck, glass glinting evilly in the dim light; it was hanging to one side by threads of shredded muscle and tissue…_

Crouching down, he bent his head forward trying to control himself. He felt an arm go round his shoulders.

"Max? You ok?" Chris asked him softly.

Unable to speak right then, he just shook his head. He hadn't suffered nightmares since he was a child, and he'd seen some pretty gruesome injuries over the years as a medic.

But this one was to herald the start of a new era for Max.

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

"Bobby, he's getting closer." The fear in Ellen's voice made Bobby look up from his backpack.

The blue glow could definitely be identified as a coach by now, and they could both hear the growling of its ghostly engine.

Bobby stood up, clutching his own shotgun and stood in a firing stance similar to Ellen's.

Ellen heard a flurry of activity off to her left and briefly interrupted her vigil to watch as Dean appeared along with an EMT carrying a stretcher. Occasionally glancing over to monitor their progress, she was relieved to see Sam being transferred onto a gurney and swept away to one of the more obscure entrances to the hospital. Once she saw Dean race after his brother and disappear safely into the building, she heaved another sigh of relief.

"The boys are inside." Ellen muttered in a low voice. "They went through the chapel entrance."

"Good." Bobby kept the approaching ghost bus in his sights. "Now you go ahead and I'll follow on in a minute. Get to Dean."

"Bob…"

"I said move Ellen!" He watched out the corner of his eye as Ellen reluctantly backed away still holding the shotgun. Once she was through the door Bobby crouched down on one knee, aiming steadily at the coach.

As it came into range, Bobby squeezed the trigger and the loud boom of the shotgun echoed round the Heli-pad. A nanosecond later the coach flickered in and out, the weird glow phasing from blue to red and then back to blue. With a roaring scream of frustration and anger from The Driver, the coach flickered one last time, before disappearing altogether.

Bobby lowered the shotgun slowly, not taking his eyes off the road ahead.

It wouldn't stop it permanently, but it might have bought them some time.

Bobby got up with a few creaks and groans, and turned round to stare right into the mutilated face of The Driver.

Staring in horror at the grisly sight, Bobby realised that this bastard had managed to cross the salt line.

The ghost stared back at him, skin peeling away from his face, skeletal smile fixed and evil.

_I will have him!!!_ The Driver screamed into Bobby's mind.

Before Bobby could answer, the ghost backhanded him across the face, harder than he imagined possible. Sliding to the ground, Bobby's last sight before losing consciousness was that of The Driver, flickering in and out as he strode towards the wrecked aircraft.

_&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&_

**_Authors notes:_**

_Many thanks to everyone for their wonderful reviews. I'm really pleased at the response this story has evoked._

_The after dinner speech remembered by poor Charlie can be ordered from Amazon on CD. It is an extremely funny, and tongue in cheek account of the history of Air Traffic Control, the principles of takeoff and landing, not to mention a healthy dose of piss taking. It is surprisingly clean on the language front, but some items mentioned might be considered a little non-PC by today's standards. Having said that, it's all in good fun._

_Order it and have a listen…_

_"What goes up might come down" by the high flying humour of David Gunson._

_(Recorded live at a meeting of the Solihull Round Table, March 1981)._

_Kind regards,_

_ST.xxx._


	5. Chapter 5

RTC Chapter 5

_**Then…**_

_**He stood, watching the struggling helicopter with his little brother on board, probably **_

_**desperately clinging to life.**_

_**Desperately clinging to life.**_

_**That thought stopped him cold.**_

_**I've tried so hard to keep you safe…**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**With a horrendous roaring of engines the chopper belly flopped onto the heli-pad, landing **_

_**gear giving out as it was immediately crushed under the impact, the whole craft sliding **_

_**some two hundred yards as the momentum piled the craft into the rear of the hospital. The **_

_**rotas began eating into the concrete and sparks flew as metal ground on metal, the sound **_

_**deafening, as metal was twisted and tortured against concrete, filling everyone's ears with **_

_**the painful screeching that resembled that of a wounded wild animal.**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**His eyes slid shut again as the pain overwhelmed him.**_

_**Dean….**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**Turning to Ellen his eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of something in the distance.**_

"_**Bobby?" Ellen turned to follow his gaze, and gasped. Under the gloom of the turbulent **_

_**skies, she could just about make out a blue glow on the road.**_

_**It was bus-shaped.**_

_**And it was coming closer.**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**I will have him!!!**__** The Driver screamed into Bobby's mind.**_

_**Before Bobby could answer, the ghost backhanded him across the face, harder than he **_

_**imagined possible. Sliding to the ground, Bobby's last sight before losing consciousness **_

_**was that of The Driver, flickering in and out as he strode towards the wrecked aircraft.**_

_**&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&**_

_**Now…**_

Dr Michaels was hurriedly checking Sam's vitals, examining the vent in his throat, talking

loudly and quickly to his medical staff, when he looked up and realised that his patient's

older brother had followed them into the ER.

"Sir you really shouldn't be here, please go back to the waiting room." The doctor demanded

but kindly.

Dean just glared at him, arms folded, feet slightly apart. He didn't need to say anything

because the expression on his face said it all.

It suggested that an A10 tank buster probably wouldn't have stood a chance up against Dean Winchester nee Harrison.

_**Once he's at the hospital stay with your brother and don't let him outa ya sight…**_

And Dean had no intention of doing that.

He carried on staring the doctor down.

"Sir…" Dr Michaels sighed. He'd heard stories about this man, how he wouldn't leave his

brother in the crashed SUV. That amount of courage was something to admire.

"Ok, but please stay back so we can help him. What's your brother's name?"

Dean relaxed a little. "Sam Harrison."

His hard gaze swung to Sam, just as he was lifted onto the bed, and softened a little as his

little brother slowly began to stir.

Dean watched as Sam's eyes opened to half mast, eyes swivelling round, searching the room.

He appeared to be confused when strange people dressed in green scrubs started cutting his

clothes away.

Dean forced himself to stay still, but when Sam started struggling and fighting the vent he

was at his side in an instant, once again placing himself in Sam's line of sight.

"Hey Sammy, you're ok. Just hang on for me, can you do that?" He asked softly.

Sam was choking on the tube, eyes panicking and pleading all at the same time. Dean turned

his head slightly towards the ER doc, whilst keeping his eyes on Sam. "Any chance we can

remove this?" He indicated the vent.

Dr Michaels, who'd been about to protest as Dean stepped forward, silenced his complaint

when Sam seemed to calm a little with the presence of his older brother.

That has to be a good thing, he thought to himself.

"Not a good idea at this stage I'm afraid. He's too weak to breathe on his own and he's

gonna need surgery."

Dean nodded. "S'ok." He turned back to Sam and continued softly. "Sam this is gonna

have to stay in buddy. Ok? So just relax and let it do all the work for ya." Sam, though he

still looked scared, tried his best to do as his brother asked. "That's it Sam, just take it slow

and easy. Your body needs a break, so just enjoy the vacation for a while huh?"

Sam locked his eyes on Dean, then moved his uninjured hand, weakly nudging it against his

brother's arm. When Dean grabbed his hand and held it tightly, Sam managed to relax a little

more.

The tube was not only uncomfortable but it also hurt. But as Sam lay there helplessly, eyes

boring into Dean's, he knew he was safe.

_Hurts Dean…_

_I know Sammy. I'm so sorry you have to go through this little bro._

_Not your fault. Just…please…don't leave…_

Dean's other hand came to rest gently on his little brother's head, feeling the movement in

Sam's body as the vent did its work.

_I'll never leave you Sam. You know that right?_

Sam's eyes gave him all the answer he needed. Dean was awe struck at the amount of faith

and trust his little brother had shown him, but Sam's strength and courage in the face of all

that had happened to him was truly astounding.

Dean leaned forward.

"You've done so well Sam. I'm proud of you. So…just keep fighting for me." He muttered

in Sam's ear. "Ya hear me Sammy? Stay strong and keep fighting."

He felt Sam weakly squeeze his hand in response, and smiled a little.

"Sir? If you could step back please so we can prep your brother for surgery."

Dean did as he was asked but moved to the end of the bed, still keeping his concerned gaze

on Sam.

Dr Michaels, whilst injecting something into Sam's IV, had watched the silent interaction

between the boys and came to a decision. It was unorthodox, and could get him struck off

but…

Sam's eyes became heavy as the anaethetic kicked in, but he still saw Dean smile

encouragingly at him. As his eyes closed, he just about made out the doctor's words.

"…here, put these on. And make sure you scrub up properly."

Sam would've smiled back if he'd been able to.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean was more than a little shocked when the doctor handed over a set of scrubs.

But the shock didn't last long when he suddenly realised what this meant. He was going to

witness his little brother being cut open.

But somehow it didn't scare him as much as it should have.

Because he was going to be there for Sam.

All the way.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Ellen ran through the corridors, searching for Dean, when she saw him disappear through the

doors of the ER.

_Too late!_

She quickly changed course and headed for the staff canteen.

The domestics were more than a little frightened when a crazy woman came barrelling

through the door, shotgun aimed at them and demanded in a loud voice:

"Gimme all ya salt!"

The workers froze, staring at her.

It was a hospital canteen for god's sake, but they had to silently congratulate her.

As far as stand-and-deliver hold-ups went, that was definitely a new one.

Then one of them shrugged. He was the supervisor.

"They don't pay me enough to worry. Help yaself!"

Ellen ran around gathering up all the salt shakers, feeling decidedly foolish.

"Erm…thanks." She gave a quick nod and left.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Chris watched his colleague silently. Once he'd finally got it out of him, he felt sick. He

hadn't been able to bring himself to go and confirm what Max had told him about the Pilot

and co-pilot.

And he really didn't need to. Chris could see the blood from where he stood near the

demolished nose of the chopper. It didn't look good and he was pretty certain the sight of the

smashed cement of the hospital wall, combined with the broken craft and the sheer volume of

blood, was gonna be staying with him for a while. So he decided that he really didn't need

any more graphic imagery.

Turning, he spotted a familiar blue glow heading towards him; it was the same one that had

bathed the aircraft before the crash, but this time at the centre of it there was a

hideous…_something_. It looked like a man.

_If a man can suffer that much decomposition whilst remaining upright!_

Oh shit. Chris suddenly put two and two together and was rather horrified at the answer.

He'd seen this guy before.

"Max! Move now!"

The blue glow didn't stop. Max flinched at Chris's shout, but he stood up and stared at the

thing in horrified fascination.

"Max don't look at him, just move for Christ's sake!" Chris was virtually screaming at his

old friend by now.

He grabbed Max's arm and dragged him away. "Come on!"

Max finally came to his senses and moved swiftly alongside Chris. "What the hell is that

thing?"

"A very sick and twisted urban legend. I'll tell ya a nice bedtime story 'bout it later if ya just

_shut the fuck up and run!"_

The EMTs barrelled towards the chapel entrance.

Chris briefly glanced back at The Driver.

The blue glow intensified for a second as the apparition laughed insanely at their retreating

backs.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The Driver paused for a second, then passed through the shell of the chopper, seeking,

watching, waiting.

When he didn't find what he was looking for he screamed with rage, flickering in and out.

But something else caught his attention. Turning to the cockpit he lifted his nose as though

sniffing the air. Liking what he sensed, a slow evil grin stretched across his hideous face, the

skin peeling back to reveal his jawbone.

So far the night had been disappointing, his chosen pray having survived, but all was

obviously not lost, as his eyeless sockets fell on the auras of the confused and scared Charlie

and his co-pilot.

_You'll do for now…_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Bobby opened his eyes and sighed. _Really gettin' too old for this shit!_

Slowly sitting up, he glanced around. A loud crash startled him and his gaze swung to the

chapel door as it banged shut behind the backs of the EMTs.

A glow out of the corner of his eye made him shift his gaze to the ruined chopper, and he

watched as the ghost disappeared. He winced when he heard a non-human screech.

_Sounds like bus-boy there's a little pissed about somethin'._

It was then that he caught the sight of the blood and knew what The Driver was after.

Or rather who.

Scrambling to his feet, Bobby grabbed up his shotgun and raced across the tarmac.

He could still see the faint blue glow as it once again surrounded the stricken aircraft.

Raising his shotgun to his shoulder he shoved his way into the cabin and aimed.

The Driver, sensing his presence, turned and snarled at Bobby.

The auras of the pilot and his colleague wavered a little in the cockpit, glancing between the

blue apparition and the guy with the shotgun.

Bobby nodded to the dead flight crew. "Time you were movin' on."

Charlie just stared at him, the question on his face obvious.

Bobby spoke quickly and honestly. "I don't know where you guys are headed next, but trust me. You don't wanna go with this dude. Nothing's as bad as what he has in mind for ya."

Charlie's co-pilot nodded and grabbed Charlie's arm, silently pleading with him.

The Driver started towards the poor souls, intent on taking them just for his amusement until he got who he really came for.

But Bobby wasn't having any of that, and opened fire once again.

The Driver squealed angrily before dissipating.

Bobby wouldn't be a hunter if he hadn't thought what he did. It was tempting, but also wrong in so many ways, and most likely wouldn't work.

Yeah. He could've sacrificed these spirits to The Driver in order to take the heat off Sam.

But it wouldn't have stopped the blue-hazed bastard from going after the younger brother, and these poor souls, who'd given their lives to protect Sam, would've been fucked.

So no. Bobby made his decision and took the bastard down…temporarily.

The Pilot and his colleague nodded in gratitude, then the two of them slowly faded away.

Bobby didn't miss the sadness in their eyes, and made a mental note to personally inform their families not only of their passing, but also of their courage and fortitude.

Heading back to the chapel entrance, Bobby reflected that under other circumstances a lot of medals would have been handed out tonight.

The double doors gave way with a crash under Bobby's weight as he shoved his way into the side entrance of the hospital. The EMTs were just starting to get their breath back from their own escape, and stared at him.

Then the lighting flickered, and there was the faintest tint of blue in the air.

"Shit!" Bobby yelled. "that bastard was quick. Now the damn electricity's about to give out."

At that moment a salt-laden Ellen arrived out of breath and glanced at Bobby's pale face.

"Bobby what the hell happened?"

Bobby didn't waste any more time with explanations.

"Where's the water supply for this hospital?"

Chris responded immediately "in the basement." He paused beforeannouncing "I know what you're thinking, and I don't think it's gonna work."

Bobby and Ellen halted and stared at him.

It was Ellen who asked "Why dya say that? What dya know kid?"

_Kid? Jesus Christ I'm in my thirties…_"Rock salt dumped in the water won't keep the bastard out!"

Max once again glanced at his friend, wondering what else he'd kept from him.

"I know. Salt won't repel him." Bobby replied.

Ellen dumped the salt shakers on the floor and looked mightily pissed off.

"What!?" Hands on her hips, an angry expression on her face, Bobby had a hard time not laughing.

Instead, he grinned. "I had something else in mind!"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dr Michaels glanced around him as the lights flickered, then he started to panic as the cardiac monitor blared out in warning.

"Shit! Get on to the engineers and tell them to start the back-up generator." The anaesthetist jumped in surprise, but the nurse assisting the surgeon immediately wrenched the phone off the wall and spoke in clipped tones.

"What's goin' on? Is my brother ok?" Dean was trying hard not to panic, but he'd already nearly lost Sam too many times in the last few hours, and he didn't think he could cope with much more.

"I think the power's about to give out on us." Dr Michaels refused to look at Dean, not wanting to see the fear on his face. Instead, he kept his gaze on Sam, though he silently admitted to himself that option wasn't much better. His conscience was still suffering.

And that was ludicrous, for god's sake! Dr Michaels had spent years telling himself that losing a patient, especially one as grievously injured as Sam Harrison, wasn't necessarily his fault. And there was no way that the electricity failing would be his fault if Sam died.

As the cardiac monitor belted out the flatline, he gave into his conscience and raised his eyes to Dean.

Fault didn't matter. He had to try his best, because the look on Dean's face was killing him. Dr Michaels witnessed in that second pain, fear, anger, and love gleaming in that green gaze, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that he couldn't let them down.

These boys had come too far to give up so easily.

The doctor, face grim, continued to try to save Sam's life.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dean watched fearfully as the lights flickered and knew _he_ was here.

_Come on Sam. You can beat this._

_Dean…_

He heard his little brother's voice in his head once again. Sam sounded resigned to his fate.

_No Sam! You don't give up! Ya hear me? Don't give up! Not now!_

_Can't…_

_Yes you damn well can!_

Dean had always wondered if he and Sam had a kind of telepathy going on, but now he was convinced.

And as Sam's heart gave out and the cardiac monitor bleeped alarmingly, Dean felt that familiar loss.

The one he'd felt before at Cold Oak.

That connection was now gone, and so was Sam.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

_**Authors notes:**_

Yeah, I know. That was just a bit shit. My mind keeps wondering…

I know I could've done better with this chapter, but I reckoned you'd all waited long enough.

Thanks for all your reviews so far. Love ya all.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	6. Chapter 6

**RTC Chapter 6**

**Check out Merisha's art work for this fic. Tried to post the link but this bastard website seems to have problem with it.**

**Just have a look at her reviews of my stories and then go to her home page.**

**Her artwork is fucking brilliant.**

_**Hey Sammy, you're ok. Just hang on for me, can you do that?" He asked softly.**_

_**Sam was choking on the tube, eyes panicking and pleading all at the same time. Dean **_

_**turned his head slightly towards the ER doc, whilst keeping his eyes on Sam. "Any chance **_

_**we can remove this?" He indicated the vent.**_

_**I'll never leave you Sam. You know that right?**_

_**Chris briefly glanced back at The Driver.**_

_**The blue glow intensified for a second as the apparition laughed insanely at their **_

_**retreating backs.**_

_**Bobby nodded to the dead flight crew. "Time you were movin' on."**_

_**Charlie just stared at him, the question on his face obvious.**_

_**Bobby spoke quickly and honestly. "I don't know where you guys are headed next, but **_

_**trust me. You don't wanna go with this dude. Nothing's as bad as what he has in mind for **_

_**ya."**_

_**Rock salt dumped in the water won't keep the bastard out!**_

__

_**And as Sam's heart gave out and the cardiac monitor bleeped alarmingly, Dean felt that **_

_**familiar loss.**_

_**The one he'd felt before at Cold Oak.**_

_**That connection was now gone, and so was Sam.**_

**_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_**

Someone was playing a sick joke. They had to be. There was no way this was real.

But Sam lay there silently, his chest wasn't rising or falling, he wasn't searching for Dean…

Dean felt the blood drain from his face.

Dr Michaels, astute as always, mid-difib, shouted "catch him" just as Dean collapsed.

Sam sat up and recognised the road.

_Ok this is getting boring!_

It was the same stretch of road as before, and he knew the damn bus would show up soon.

Sam wasn't sure what to do or where to go. He was pretty certain he wasn't supposed to be

here, and remembered Dean talking to him, coaching him through the pain. But then Dean

was always there to do that.

Except he wouldn't be in a few months.

"_SAM?"_

Sam's head shot round, trying to find the source of the voice. Again, this was familiar.

"_Dean?"_

The bus pulled up with the usual screeching and wailing, and Sam just stared up at The Driver.

"_What do you want with me?"_ Sam asked fearfully.

The Driver's face creaked and stretched into a grin.

"_Bargaining tool for hell __**Chosen one!**_

"_I'm not…"_

"_You have no idea the power you possess… you could easily defeat me, but you won't. _

_Because of your brother…"_

"_What about my brother?"_

"_He has an appointment in hell, and you want to save him. I can help you."_

"_How?"_

"_You come with me. That's the deal. You can't go back, you can't go forward. But you __**can **_

_step aboard. And your brother goes free from the deal."_

"_What do you get out of it?"_

The Driver grinned again. _"Like I said, I get you as a bargaining tool. I exchange you, I _

_don't go to hell."_

Sam stared at him.

Before he could speak his brother called again.

"_SAM!"_

Sam's head swivelled round, desperately searching for Dean, when he appeared right beside

him.

"_Holy shit!"_ Sam fell back onto his butt. _"Dean?"_

"You ok Sam?"

Sam just stared at him. "_No, I'm not"._

He got up and started towards the coach, a single minded look on his face.

Dean, realising what Sam was trying to do, grabbed the back of his jacket, and swung him

round to face him.

"No! Stop! He can't give you what you want Sam. He's lying to ya."

"_I have to go. I'm sorry Dean."_

"NO!"

Dean kept his grip and forced his brother away from the bus.

"You can't!"

As Sam was about to answer, he suddenly winced and bent double, breathing rapidly.

"Sam?" Dean caught him before he hit the ground.

When Sam groaned in pain Dean froze. There was something about this…he had a

memory…

He blinked and a whole series of images filed up behind his eyes. Although he'd never seen

these before, they held a frustrating sense of déjà vu.

_Sam and Dad shouting and arguing…_

_A glass of water knocked off the table and smashed on the floor…_

…_I full on Swayzeed that mother…_

_The intense pain inside his chest, and then he collapsed to the floor…_

Dean shook himself, then clutched Sam tighter to him. "Sam, you have to go back."

Sam shook his head miserably. _"I can't Dean. I have to do this. I have to save you and he _

_just offered a way…"_

"No! Sam this isn't real ok? Don't believe him! He'll say anything to get to you…"

Sam stared at him, then stared at the bus. His twitching eyebrows told Dean that his brother

was in deep thought. Then Sam convulsed again.

"Sam!" Dean held his shaking brother, fear cutting through him.

_Supposing this doesn't work?_

Not an option. It had to. He wasn't sure how he knew but Dr Michaels was trying to revive

Sam, and Dean was determined to make sure he succeeded.

"I'm sorry Sam." He whispered suddenly.

Sam turned pain filled eyes on to his brother, just as Dean took a swing.

His little brother collapsed under the blow.

Dean clutched Sam to him again and glared at The Driver. "I'm gonna find out what and

who you are, then you and me are gonna have a damn serious heart-to-heart!"

The Driver laughed _I look forward to it, __**Winchester, **__believe me!_

_ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss_

So that was the ghost equivalent of _come an' 'ave a go if ya think ya hard enough_.

Yeah, Dean got that message loud and clear. And he wasn't impressed.

His head hurt even more than usual but he opened his eyes to find Dr Michaels and various

other emergency staff staring at him anxiously.

"Sam?" He felt as though his mouth had been invaded by an entire field of sheep, and that

really wasn't a pleasant thought. "Is he…?"

Dr Michaels frowned with relief. It was no picnic having _one _of these guys out for the count,

but two of them?

Sometimes he wondered why he bothered getting out of bed in the mornings.

"Sam's fine. Well…he's alive, and that's saying a lot."

"Where is he?" Dean's gaze darted round the room, frantically searching for his brother.

"Right here." Dr Michaels swept back the curtain behind him.

Dean sighed in relief.

_It worked. And no reaper. And no vent in Sam's throat. That's a good sign right?_

Sam looked peaceful for once, a tube running across his face and under his nose. He was

breathing on his own now, and Dean, utterly exhausted, tried to sit up.

"Oh no ya don't." Dr Michaels earned himself a glare as he pushed Dean back down on the

bed. "You realise you nearly died? You almost crashed right alongside your brother! That

head injury should've been looked at long before now!"

Dean carried on glaring at him. "Is my brother going to be ok?"

"It's not the best scenario I've ever witnessed but yeah, if he takes things easy he'll be fine."

The doctor watched as Mr Harrison seemed to relax a little.

Then Dean remembered something Sam had said when he was trapped in the SUV. "What

about his legs? He said he couldn't feel them."

Dr Michaels sighed. He knew that question was coming but it didn't make his life any easier.

"Sam suffered severe bruising to his spinal cord, and that's gonna take a while to calm

down. The swelling means that he'll be in a wheel chair for a few months until sensation

comes back, but other than that he should be ok. _Provided he takes it easy!"_

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

_**Mudvayne - Not Falling **__**(Was also the music video for Ghost Ship)**_

_(The Driver lined the coach up, sheer anger and hatred fuelling him, aiming for the hospital entrance….)_

_**Always, **_

known in all my time  
A little left of center now  
Reflect as I realize  
That all I need is to find the middle pillar  
path to sit like the sun by a  
star in the sky and just be.  
Sinners,

_**casting stones at me**_

_**I...I stand,**_

not crawling,

not falling down

_**I...I bleed**_,

the demons, that drag me down

_**I...I stand**_, (For nothing), not crawling,  
(the center), not falling down  
(of calms within the eye)  
_**I...I'll bleed**_,(For no one), the demons,  
(but myself),

_**that pull me down**_

(For me and no one else)

_(The Driver knew what was for the best, in the best of all possible worlds…he chuckled at the quote from Candide by Voltaire….you boys have no idea who you're dealing with!)_

Goodbye,

sunshine,

I've put it out again,

_**Sad!**_

I'm over, personalities,

_**conflicting  
**_

I don't need you, or anyone,

but me

I'll just be, living my own life  
I feel my glowing center grow, infecting  
I feel alive  
Shovel dirt over lime,  
plant it in myself to sit like a seed under  
covers of earth and just be  
Sinners,

_**pointing fingers at me  
**_

_**I...I stand,**_ not crawling, not falling down  
_**I...I bleed**_, the demons, that drag me down  
_**I...I stand**_, (For nothing), not crawling,  
(the center), not falling down  
(of calms within the eye)  
_**I...I'll bleed**_,(For no one), the demons,  
(but myself),

_**that pull me down**_

(For me and no one else)

Come play _**kill**_**  
**Refuse my body, refuse my shadow  
Stone cold _**will  
**_Refuse to lead this, refuse to follow  
Bitter _**pills**__  
_Refuse to feed this, refuse to swallow,  
I'm fuelled godless  
Come play, come play

_**Kill**_

_Just be,...just be….  
_

_Just be… just be….  
_

_Just be,….  
_

__

_**Just be.**_

_**I...I stand**_, not crawling, not falling down  
_**I...I bleed**_, the demons, that drag me down  
_**I...I stand**_,(For nothing), not crawling,  
(the center), not falling down  
(of calms within the eye)  
_**I...I'll bleed**_,(For no one), the demons,  
(but myself),

_**that drag me down  
**_(For me and no one else)

The Driver, with renewed purpose, revved the engine, the skin now completely ripped from his face.

_Sam Winchester has no idea…I will have him. He won't escape me for long…demon boy._

This had become a vendetta.

Yeah I know. Not the best.

I'm getting real pissed off with this website now. I've gone over some of my old stories, and some of my new ones, and all the breaks I'd put in between sections have been deleted.

Not happy.

To the web site:

Get your shit sorted out mate!

Not so kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	7. Chapter 7

**RTC Chapter 7**

_**What do you want with me?"**__** Sam asked fearfully.**_

_**The Driver's face creaked and stretched into a grin.**_

"_**Bargaining tool for hell **__**Chosen one!**_

"_**I'm not…"**_

"_**You have no idea the power you possess… you could easily defeat me, but you won't. **_

_**Because of your brother…"**_

"_**What about my brother?"**_

"_**He has an appointment in hell, and you want to save him. I can help you."**_

"_**How?"**_

"_**You come with me. That's the deal. You can't go back, you can't go forward. But you **__**can **_

_**step aboard. And your brother goes free from the deal."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Dean, realising what Sam was trying to do, grabbed the back of his jacket, and swung him**_

_**round to face him.**_

"_**No! Stop! He can't give you what you want Sam. He's lying to ya."**_

"_**I have to go. I'm sorry Dean."**_

"_**NO!"**_

_**Dean kept his grip and forced his brother away from the bus.**_

"_**You can't!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

When Chris had shown Bobby the way to the basement, Ellen and Max waited by the chapel entrance.

"So rock salt dumped in holy water won't repel him," Bobby muttered, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Guess I'll have to try out some older tricks."

"What're you planning to do?" Chris asked anxiously as they approached the water tank.

Bobby pulled a rosary from his jacket pocket. It was plain and simple, with black wooden beads, and silver links caught and flashed in the dim light of the basement. Opening the tank, Bobby muttered something in Latin then traced the sign of the cross in the air above the water.

Chris stared in amazement. "I would never have thought of blessing the water!" He stammered as Bobby produced a small blue glass bottle, up-ended it and tipped the oil into the tank.

"Don't get too excited. We have no idea if this'll keep him out either."

But in truth, Bobby was pretty confident that it would. At least whilst it lasted, he reflected as Chris helped him turn the wheel, opening the valve fully. The two stood still for a moment, listening as the newly blessed water gurgled and swirled, sweeping through the pipes in the walls.

It had been John Winchester's idea originally, the blessing of water supplies. Bobby had just taken it a stage further. The rosary had once belonged to Pope John Paul II; the Winchester boys would have been amazed at the idea of Bobby Singer visiting The Vatican in order to 

help out one of the most popular popes to ever have sat in office. As a gift and to show his appreciation for Bobby's assistance with a delicate haunting matter, he'd sent his own personal rosary to Bobby's home.

When the Pope had passed away two months later, Bobby had cried for the first time in years. He'd only known the man for a few short months, but John Paul II had become a true friend.

Bobby hadn't spoken about it since, nor likely ever will.

The oil had also been gifted to him by John Paul from the very same supply that had anointed the pope back in 1978.

So yeah, if _that_ didn't keep The Driver out then nothing would.

Chris and Bobby made their way out of the basement, clambering over pipes and dusty old boxes.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Shit, he's back." Ellen stared out the window of the chapel entrance watching as the coach reappeared. She re-checked her shotgun, before pushing open the door and stepping outside.

"What's he doing?" Max had passed beyond shock and denial by now, and just decided to join in, figuring that an explanation would emerge at some point; though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

The bus had lined up with the entrance, but now it reversed up then came to a sudden halt. It seemed to be waiting.

Ellen glanced back to the building, noticing for the first time all the messages of love, happiness, and in some heart breaking cases, grief. They'd been left on the walls by family and friends for their loved ones, and mostly they spoke of faith and healing through the dark times ahead.

"It can't come near the chapel," she fought to keep the tremble out of her voice, as her eye caught on a memorial message for a small child. The parents had clearly loved their little one, and their hopes and dreams had been shattered by illness and despair. But not their faith it seemed.

_Our dearest Emily,_

_We didn't have you for nearly long enough before God decided to take you home. We will think of you always; our little sunshine girl. _

_Our love for you knows no death or darkness._

_In our hearts, we'll always be holding you, keeping you safe._

_Good night sweetheart._

_Lot's of love,_

_Mommy and Daddy._

Ellen sniffed. "The people…their belief is too strong a wall for him to penetrate."

But even as they watched, the coach moved forward and turned. It sped up and shot forward, aiming for another section of the hospital brick work.

Ellen dashed forward, shotgun raised just as Bobby and Chris appeared.

"Ellen?" Bobby yelled and followed her.

Standing side by side, Ellen and Bobby fired upon the coach, the glow flickering from blue to red then back to blue. The coach appeared to struggle every time a shell made impact. But it was when the bus hit the side of the hospital that hell broke loose for the second time that morning. The ghostly coach suddenly froze in place, engine screaming angrily at the ethereal punishment. But as a low rumble built up to a loud roar, the ground started to shake under foot.

The apparition was bucking violently against the wall, searching, seeking a way through. But the old building had water pipes criss-crossing inside its walls, all with the blessed water surging through them.

Bobby couldn't help but feel there was more to this haunting than a pissed off ghost collecting souls just for company.

"It's working Bobby!" Ellen screamed over the deafening noise. Suddenly the bus flickered out and at the same time silence reigned.

Bobby stared out across the abandoned and ravaged heli-pad. "It bought us some time to figure things out, may be," he nodded in agreement. "But pretty soon that water'll be all used up and in the sewer. And he'll come back. He's real pissed now. Pissed and desperate, which means something's happened to Sam."

He hustled Ellen back inside the hospital.

"Come on. Let's get to the boys."

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean gazed anxiously at him brother. The doctor had left in a flurry of charts and request forms, after having drawn blood from Sam's arm for yet _more_ tests. Somehow Dean didn't think the answer to Sam's problems lay at the bottom of a microscope, or whatever the hell they used.

Dean was just glad to hear the steady and above _calm_ beep of Sam's cardiac monitor, which played in soft harmony with the sound of Sam breathing on his own. He sighed tiredly, running a hand through his short hair, headache still bugging him.

Once the doc and his team of torture chamber assistants (and yeah, having the beam from what seemed like something resembling a _fucking lighthouse_ shone in your eyes when you already had a headache the size of the San Andreas fault and twice as unstable, _was_ fucking torture) had left, Dean had got out his own bed and slid into the chair next to Sam's.

"Ok Sam. Time to wake up and tell me what the hell you were thinking. Enough messin' around already, ya hear me?"

Sam's brow twitched slightly and Dean softened his tone. "Come on Sammy. I don't know how or why that bastard's after you, but I'm not lettin' him anywhere near. I promise. Don't be scared Sam, open your eyes for me."

He reached over the bed rails and ran a hand gently through Sam's long shaggy hair. There was no getting away from it. His little brother looked terrible, which was no surprise. Sam had been through a lot in the last twelve hours. The last few months, truth be told, and Dean really didn't know how Sam found the strength to carry on.

Sam's face was frighteningly pale, and the deep dark shadows under his eyes paid tribute to all the physical and emotional trauma he'd been forced to endure.

Dean closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't blame Sam for wanting to believe the bus driver. The deal Dean had made to bring Sam back from the dead was wearing on them both, but the guilt Dean felt over Sam's personal torment was often overwhelming.

But it didn't change a thing. He'd do it all over again if he had to.

_If he could._

A soft whisper interrupted his troubled thoughts.

"Why? I could've saved you. Why did you make me come back?" Sam's voice broke with sadness on that last word.

Dean turned his head to find his brother staring at him, eyes filled with utter despair.

Dean struggled to keep his fear under control, and struggled even harder to keep his temper in check. The last thing Sam needed right now was his big brother ranting at him. He reached over and squeezed Sam's hand, then looked closely at his face yet again. Sam truly did look dreadful, so Dean did his best to keep his voice soft.

"Ya know, there were times growin' up when you were so smart it frightened me. I worried that Einstein sized brain of yours was gonna get you in trouble, and more often than not I was proved right." Sam lightly squeezed back and the corners of Dean's mouth turned up in a small smile. "But that has to rate as the all time dumbest thing you've ever said, bro."

Sam's eyes clouded with something…confusion? Anger? "Dean…"

"No. You were about to exchange yourself for me Sam." Dean stared hard at him. "I heard him! And I heard you! You'd have given yourself up and all because of some ghostly bastard lowlife on a coach!" Dean's voice rose with anger; he wanted to shake Sam 'til his teeth rattled. "You _know_ what he is Sam! He's a soul collector. A Ferryman. You'd just have been another prize to keep him outta hell!"

Sam tensed up and if possible grew paler. "He's coming after me anyway Dean!" He retorted angrily through gritted teeth. "At least this way something good comes out of it!"

"Stupid sonofa…" Dean got up and paced furiously, his head throbbing painfully in time to his heart beat. He turned back to Sam and leaned over him almost menacingly. "You don't even know if he was telling the truth. You could've given up everything for nothing, and there wouldn't have been a damn thing I could have done to stop it!"

Sam seemed to shrink back into the bed under the force of Dean's words, but he came out fighting.

"Dean, you're going to hell in a few months," Sam replied bitterly. "There's nothing _to_ give up, 'cos I sure don't wanna still be here when you're not!" He finished on a wince.

Dean went back to pacing the room angrily "Is that right? You ungrateful…"

During his own impressive rant, Sam had grown breathless from the combined pain in his ribs and the pressure on his injured lung.

Dean glared at him, anger giving way to concern when Sam scrunched his eyes shut and groaned.

"Sam?"

But Sam could barely breathe let alone answer, and began clutching at his chest, the bruises from the steering wheel adding to his misery. Dean's concern turned to alarm as Sam struggled to sit up, trying to ease the pressure, but his back injury made the movement unbearable and he cried out in pain.

"Sam calm down." Dean reached forward to hold Sam steady when he started to list.

"Shit! Sam, come on! You have to breathe," as his little brother gasped desperately, heart monitor going mental.

_How the hell did a simple conversation get out of hand so quickly?_ Dean thought to himself as he pressed the call button. Then again, no conversation amongst hunters could be mistaken for simple, especially when those hunters were Winchesters.

The doc arrived at a run, panting and leaning heavily against the door. "Wha…"

He stamped his foot in an effort to focus on getting his breath back. "What've you two done now?" _These guys'll give me a psychotic break!_

It hadn't been the call button that summoned him. It had been the monitors at the nurse's station.

Dean was keeping Sam's upper body elevated as he rubbed his back gently, when he glanced up looking guilty. "We had a discussion. It got a little heated." Was all the explanation the doc was gonna get.

Dr Michaels glared at him before rolling his eyes and crossing the room. He raised the head of the bed so that Sam could lean back comfortably, his breathing already sounding less painful. He checked Sam's oxygen sats, then removed the nasal canula and replaced it with the dreaded mask.

But Sam appeared too exhausted to care, his eyelids at half mast as the pain gradually lessened, watching Dean watching him.

Dean stood back, arms folded. His eyes were filled with concerned as he tracked the doctor's movements, but his gaze mostly stayed on his younger brother. And the look on his face spoke loud and clear.

_This discussion aint over Sam!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam stared back at him, no longer angry, just tired. His blue-green eyes suddenly filled with sadness again, and Dean had to look away.

The doc finished checking Sam over and stepped back, eyes darting back and forth between the brothers until they came to rest on Dean. "Could I have a word please?"

And Dean obligingly followed him out into the hallway.

"Look, your brother needs to rest. But if you two are gonna fight then I'll have to put you in separate rooms; Sam can't afford to be stressed out right now. He injures that lung again and the consequences could be devastating."

Dean immediately felt remorseful and glanced back through the doorway at his little brother. "Yeah, doc," and nodded wearily.

But the doctor wasn't finished yet. "And you're _also _supposed to be taking it easy! You nearly died along with your brother because of that head injury."

Dean sighed. "I hear ya." But he wasn't so sure and didn't think the doctor was either.

"That's got nothing to do with it. He was trying to come after Sam in the only way he knew how." A gruff voice spoke up behind them. Dean turned to find Bobby, Ellen and the two EMTs striding down the hallway.

"Bobby? What the hell's goin' on?"

Bobby stopped in front of Dean. "Let's all sit down. I think we need to talk." He glanced at the doctor. "You may as well know what we're dealing with."

Dean glanced at him anxiously. _He's letting a civilian in on this?_

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam opened his eyes as several people trooped into the room, followed by his brother.

He removed the mask and watched as all of them made themselves comfortable. Dean sat on his own bed, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, and the tension in the room grew to almost uncomfortable levels before Bobby stood and passed over a printout of an old newspaper clipping to Dean, who glanced at it, frowning.

"His name was James McAllister. He ran a tour bus service round these parts back in the 1950s, but it soon went under. The Second World War had not long been over and a lot of businesses went to the wall during that time, 'specially round these parts. Word had it James wouldn't except it and tried everything he could to keep it goin'. But no bank was gonna lend money to an already failed business, and James grew angry. Became obsessed."

Chris spoke up at this point. "Yeah, my grandfather told me he'd gone to work for him around that time; said he became bitter and twisted. A real bastard to work for. But one afternoon James disappeared and everyone thought the worst had happened, that he'd decided to end it all. Next morning, James returned and business picked up; gramps couldn't believe it. People kept turning up and paying ridiculous amounts of money for a tour of the area. But after an earth quake in '54, James and the bus just disappeared, along with all the passengers. They were never found."

"After that, a series of mysterious accidents along Jordan's Crossing led to several deaths." Bobby continued. "Some locals claimed to have seen a bus flickering along the road at night, 

with people on board. It was believed that James McAllister was at the wheel, and he became known as The Driver, causing fatal RTCs and collecting the souls, literally driving them to hell." He looked at Sam with a small smile. "You survived and escaped. He's pretty mad at you."

The doctor raised his hand a little timidly. "Um…interesting history lesson folks, but what's that got to do with these two jokers?" He indicated Sam and Dean.

Sam just stared at Bobby, ignoring his doctor. "He made a deal with the cross road demon right? I mean, that's how he saved the business."

Bobby nodded. "That's my guess."

There was a small silence.

"If he did make a deal, how come he's still around? Albeit as a ghost?" Dean asked thoughtfully.

"We think he found a way to cheat the cross road demon before he died, and that's why he's escaped going to hell." Ellen answered.

Sam shot her a quick glance filled with hope. "If he did find a way, then may be…"

"Don't even think it Sam!" Dean felt his anger rising again. "It's too dangerous. And even if he did manage to cheat his way out, chances are that loop hole was closed long ago."

Max shook his head. "Ok. I'm totally lost. We have a ghost bus with a ghost driver, and he's after Sam for whatever reason. But…cross road demons? Deals?" Unable to wrap his head round it, he turned to his friend and colleague. "This is just a really weird dream right?"

Chris knew a little more than Max about what was going on, but he still struggled. There were some aspects to all this that still didn't make a whole lot of sense. He just shrugged.

"How 'bout you boys come with me. We'll grab some coffee and talk." Ellen nodded at Bobby, then led the two EMTs and the rather dazed doctor from the room, closing the door as they went. Bobby left it for Ellen to explain things as simply as possible.

The room was silent for a moment, as Sam leaned his head back and stifled a groan when he tried to shift his position a little.

"Sam? You ok?" Dean didn't miss the way Sam briefly closed his eyes in pain.

"Yeah." He turned tired eyes on his older brother. "We have to find out what happened to that coach."

Dean stared at him for a moment. "That's one hell of a salt and burn you're talking 'bout Sam." He turned to Bobby. "What you said before, about The Driver trying to get to Sam in the only way he knew how. What did you mean by that?"

"Did something happen to Sam earlier? Just after you were taken into the OR?" Bobby watched the two of them, knowing what the answer would be.

"Sam flatlined." Dean just shrugged, trying to make light of something that scared the hell out of him, "and so did I."

Sam and Dean took it in turns to explain just what had happened after that. Bobby listened intently, his eyebrows slowly rising, particularly at the part when The Driver had offered to get Dean out of his deal if Sam joined him. The ghost's last ditched attempt to stay out of hell.

A theory was rather reluctantly discussed. Sam flatlining in the OR and helicopter was probably down to The Driver, and Dean had been pulled right along with him because of his own cross road deal. McAllister's ghost was hoping to manipulate Sam into giving himself up to save Dean, and having Dean right there with him made it all the harder for Sam to refuse. Fortunately, both boys had proved stronger.

Sam had looked at Dean with surprise. "So you _were_ there the first time. I heard your voice but I couldn't see you."

"I didn't die that first time, Sam. I wasn't really there but I was watching." Dean smiled a little sadly at his younger brother.

A few more minutes were spent on getting up to speed. Bobby told the boys that he'd blessed and anointed the water supply to the hospital, but that wouldn't hold forever.

Dean wanted to know what was in the shot gun cartridges.

"Vodka."

Dean and Sam gaped at him. "Huh?"

Bobby grinned. "The vodka's made using holy water; special recipe. Damn difficult to get hold of." The knowledge had been another gift from John Paul II. "Not sure how it works exactly. But work it does."

After a few more discussions, Ellen guided the EMTs and Dr Michaels back into the room. They were silent, stunned expressions all round.

"So now we know roughly what we're dealing with, what now? How do we find a tour bus that went missing over fifty years ago, along with a driver that may have cheated the cross road demon?" Asked Ellen, watching the boys anxiously.

"I think I know how." Sam replied softly as he stared at Dean. "But you're not gonna like it."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Well let me just start by saying that this has been the chapter from hell. I've tied myself up in proverbial knots, overcomplicated the plot, and now I'm getting truly fed up. I think I lost the momentum a bit.

If anyone can make head or tail of it so far, then well done. You're a better person than me!

Please be kind with your reviews; I'm feeling depressed enough as it is.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	8. Chapter 8

**RTC Chapter 8**

Dean stared at him, eyes wide in angry disbelief, and a shocked silence descended.

It was almost comical. The great Dean Winchester, King of the Witty Sarcasm, Lord High Executioner of all things fugly, had been rendered speechless.

But no one was laughing.

_Well fuck me, _though Bobby, _Sam finally found the mute button on his brother._

It didn't last long.

"You want to what?" Voice hard, quiet and deadly.

"You heard me Dean." Voice soft, quiet and resigned. Resigned to an all out argument. Again.

"Yeah I heard ya all right, but what I aint so sure of is the state of your sanity" Dean got to his feet, once again pacing angrily. He stopped and shot out an arm, pointing accusingly at Sam. "You don't have any!" He resumed pacing. "'Cos you got to be outa ya god damn freakin' mind to even consider it in the first place!"

"Dean, it's the only way…"

"Well here's what I think Sam. And brace yaself!" Dean interrupted, not even aware Sam had started talking. He loomed over his little brother. "NO. FUCKING. WAY!"

Sam glared up at him. "You have any better ideas?" He responded, just as angrily. "'Cos its not like I can just get up, walk outa here and fight him! It's the only way he can get to me 

now that the whole building's protected by holy water. And it's the only way I can get to him!"

"We can flush that protection away, Sam. Let him come to us, at least that way we can protect you!" Dean countered.

Sam shook his head determinedly. "And put hundreds of innocence lives at risk by opening the hospital up to him like an all-you-can-eat soul buffet? NO. FUCKING. WAY!" He finished, throwing his older brother's words back at him.

Dean swung round, face bleak with weariness and fear.

Finally when he spoke, his voice was lowered.

"Sam, I can't let you do this," Dean whispered shakily. "It's too damn dangerous."

But Sam could see he was wavering.

Bobby watched the standoff between the boys sadly. Both wanted so desperately to protect the other, but Sam was probably right and Dean was reluctantly beginning to realise it, because he turned away from his little brother, head down, shoulders slumped.

Dr Michaels, who had previously frozen in shock at Sam's idea, suddenly snapped back to life.

"_That's_ your plan? Are you crazy? Who the hell dya think you are? Kiefer Sutherland?" His voice rose until he was almost squeaking in panic. "Sam, your body's too fragile right now to be playin' at a remake of Flatliners! This is a hospital not a damned movie set!"

He shook his head, backing off with his hands raised. "I want no part of this. I won't be responsible…"

Ellen stepped in, voice hard. "If you don't then when all our attempts at protection wear off, _and they will_, The Driver will be able to come in here and take all the souls he wants, includin' yours." She smiled sympathetically and softened her tone a little. "He won't stop until he gets Sam, but he'll take all he can get along the way. He's a predator."

Dr Michaels swallowed hard, considering her words, considering everything that had happened since these nutters showed up in his ER.

He couldn't believe that, after all those years in medical school, all that hard work and training to save lives, he was now agreeing to _kill one of his patients!_

If the medical council ever found out about this, his career was toast, even if they did succeed in bringing Sam back.

_Holy shit! I think I'm about to have a panic attack!_

A small pressure on his arm made him turn.

"Max and I are well trained in CPR." Chris offered, indicating their medical flight suits. "Kinda goes with the territory. We _can _bring him back, between the three of us."

Dr Michaels took a deep calming breath (_calming? I should be almost cata-fucking-tonic!) _and nodded.

But secretly his head was singing _they're coming to take me away ha ha!_

Max suddenly pointed at Dean. "But won't he get pulled under too? Isn't that what you lunatics said happened before?"

Dr Michaels looked like he was going to be sick. _God No! Not two of them! Not again! I barely kept my sanity last time they did this!_

Sam slowly shook his head. "Not if I'm going voluntarily; there'd be no need to take Dean too. After all, he was offering Dean's freedom in exchange for me."

The doctor looked more than a little relieved by that first sentence, and completely bewildered by the second. Ok, so crazy lady with the condiment fixation had explained about cross road deals, ghost buses, demons….

but….

but….

….now he just wanted to go home!

It was official. Never mind haunted tour coaches and the rest. He was stuck in the shift from hell.

It seemed there was no more to discuss other than to prep Sam for the ordeal ahead.

But Dean wouldn't let it go. He couldn't let Sam go ahead with this without trying once more to talk him out of it. He crouched down to Sam's eye level.

"There has to be another way Sam. Just, please, give me more time." Dean fixed him with his intense gaze, fear and love shining in his eyes. "Promise me, Sam. Promise me you 

won't do anything until I've had a chance to think this through. Half hour, that's all I'm askin' for."

Sam heard the hard desperation in Dean's voice, and gave a sharp nod. "Thirty minutes. That's it."

Dean reached out and grasped his hand, briefly squeezing it before letting go and standing up straight, an idea already forming. "I'll be back soon, just wait here."

Sam gaped at him. "Is that supposed to be funny?" Then indicated his temporarily paralysed lower body.

Dean threw him a quick grin before leaving the room.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The storm had died down a little but the early morning sky was dark with angry clouds, threatening an encore at any moment.

Dean didn't give a damn. He wasn't interested in meteorology. His tastes lent more towards demonology, and in particular to the demon standing in front of him right now.

He glanced around disdainfully.

"You ever thought of gettin' a bigger place? I know of some great cross roads in San Francisco." He grinned humourlessly. "Not that I'm inviting you to stand in front of a damn 

great tram or anything. No wait!" He nodded quickly. "That's _exactly_ what I'm asking you to do!"

She smiled, eyes flickering red. "Dean. Always a pleasure." The eyes flickered back to brown. "And I'm _so_ looking forward to hearing that vibrant wit on a more permanent basis."

Dean's eyes narrowed slightly. _Enough hedging_. "What happened with James McAllister?" Dean decided to ask straight out.

_That_ gave her pause for thought. She watched Dean carefully.

"He was a…client of mine once." The demon finally admitted.

"So why's he still here, runnin' round collecting souls like a bad extra from Ghost Ship?" Dean folded his arms and waited.

The cross road demon flicked long dark hair over her shoulder seductively, but Dean wasn't playing.

She sighed a little, clearly unhappy about owning up to one of the biggest demonic fuck ups since Lucifer put the snake in the Garden of Eden; all it succeeded in doing was arming humans with even more ammunition to throw at him. Ammunition in the form of chaos.

It had a tendency to wind the other side up a bit too. Chaos was fine when it came to nature and astronomy. It was generally considered safe in the hands of Stephen Hawkins and friends, but when it came to lesser beings such as fallen angels and cross road demons, the rules were quite clear: Keep chaos away from them!

It only got them over-excited, allowing them to develop ideas above their station.

Just look what happened to ol' Yellow Eyes.

And when that happened, it often to fell to the likes of Sam and Dean Winchester, a sort of Ritolin in human form, to go in with both guns blazing in order to take the edge off.

At least that was how the cross road demon saw things, but she wasn't considered to be all that bright by other demons standards.

All in all, the demon felt rather strongly that things might've gone better if she hadn't been granted a personality. It just over-complicated matters.

And this situation was just such a case in point.

The fact that Dean Winchester, standing there, green eyes narrowed into a sexy scowl, was hotter than Hades (and the demon knew what she was talking about) only made things worse.

She considered her options. "So I guess you figured it out. McAllister cheated the deal and didn't go to hell."

"How?" Yeah right, like she was gonna reveal _that_ one.

Of course she wasn't. "You're not that stupid Dean," the demon whispered huskily as she started circling him.

Something clicked into place in Dean's mind.

"You're boss doesn't know. Does he!" He grinned a little and mirrored her movements, refusing to put his back to the bitch. "And something tells me you've been covering you're mistake all these years until you can get hold of The Driver and have him safely tucked away in some far corner of hell. No one would ever know."

It was barely a flinch but Dean spotted the demon's slight involuntary movement at his words.

_So I'm closer to the truth than I thought…_

The demon stopped, folded her arms and tilted her head on one side. "Smart boy. You're full of surprises Dean Winchester."

"What I don't get is how your boss hasn't figured it out yet. I mean, this guy's been acting as a ferryman all these years, handing souls over to hell." Dean considered out loud, watching her face and body language for tells. "Surely someone would've noticed."

The demon chuckled. "Hell _invented_ hierarchy and red tape. Higher demons don't talk to lower demons unless they're directly in their employ. McAllister somehow went to work for another demon higher up the chain of command than my boss." She shrugged. "Hell isn't exactly big on teamwork, hence all the battles for leadership."

Dean nodded slowly, finally understanding.

"So Hell is happy 'cos it's got a regular influx of souls." His haze shot back to hers suddenly. "But your boss would be real pissed if word got out that a _human_ had found a way out of a cross road deal."

The circling began again.

"And _that_ means, he'd be real pissed at you. Tell me bitch. What's the punishment for screwin' up a deal?" Dean watched her carefully, waiting for her to bite. But to no avail.

It appeared he was gonna have to dangle the carrot a little closer.

"I can help."

"Oh really." She sounded bored, but Dean was a walking, talking bullshit detector, and he saw the small flare of interest in her eyes.

"Yeah, ya see, he's after my brother. Offered to exchange him for my contract; effectively I walk free, he uses Sam as a bargaining chip to stay outta hell."

The demon nodded and raised a finger to her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I'm intrigued. Do go on."

Dean had been thinking about this for a while. It was purely guesswork and he was pretty sure he didn't have all the pieces of the jigsaw, but he _could_ see a shape emerging. And now it was time to take a leap of faith. He drew in a fortifying breath.

"It's something to do with Sam's so called destiny. The Driver called him _Chosen One._" Dean stopped moving and faced her. "If we get you McAllister, I go free from the deal. Sam too.

The demon stared at him again, eyes flaring red for a second. "It's true that Sam has an interesting future, and he'll be forced to choose a side…"

"I know which side my brother will choose…" Dean interrupted with a growl.

"…and that will all depend on the cards he's dealt." The demon fixed him with the most intense gaze he'd ever seen, and that was saying something. "And that's exactly what The Driver's been counting on. _You_ were one such card." She seemed to grow a little taller, menacing even as she pointed at him, moving slowly towards him. "After all, _you_ set these events in motion when you brought Sam back from the dead. _You_ left the field open, anyone 

can have a shot at it, and now you don't want to leave. Afraid Sam's vulnerability will get him killed? You're afraid of so much…" Her voice trailed off as she continued staring at him, a hint of amusement returning, as though she'd just figured something out and wasn't about to share. She suddenly laughed shrilly, and Dean winced. It was like listening to fingernails being dragged down a blackboard. "I'll bet McAllister couldn't believe his luck when Sammy Winchester showed up!" The demon laughed again, and Dean glared at her.

"What's it to be?" He barked out. Enough was enough; he was tired of her games.

"Easy tiger. This is an important decision. McAllister, Winchester. McAllister, Winchester. Who to choose?" She clicked her tongue suggestively. "You have a deal."

Dean blinked. _It can't be that easy!_

She seemed to relish in his disbelief.

"There is of course a catch. Only Sam can do this…"

_Here we go, _thought Dean anxiously.

"…he's the one McAllister's after. But I'll bet you got Sam so well protected that he can't even get close." She heaved in a deep contented sigh. "Sam can't walk, which means he can't fight, at least not in physical form. And you can't in all good conscience let your ghosty into the hospital…All. Those. People." She gave another amused grin with a slight tilt to her head. "So there's only one other way…"

Dean's nostrils flared, despair burrowing its way into his heart. "Sam has to die…" he answered coldly.

The cross road bitch grinned at him. "True enough. And that parts up to you; so is getting him back. If you can."

Dean looked horrified. "But I thought…"

"Nope. Not part of the deal. I just want McAllister. I get him and you both go free from Hell. Whether Sam lives or dies is entirely your problem." She gave another one of her shrugs. "It's all the same with me. You'll end up with us some day Dean, the higher demons will see to that. So I'll be in the clear and everyone's happy. Except you of course."

Dean had the nasty feeling she wasn't telling him everything. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all…

She seemed to read his mind. "If you back out now, McAllister _will_ get Sam, even if he has to wait until after you're gone. Sam will be dogged for the rest of his life, however long _that's _likely to be; he'll never know any peace. The Driver will come after him in his dreams; in waking nightmares…you name it. It'll destroy him. This is your only choice. _Sam's _only choice."

Dean hung his head, anger slowly being replaced by fear and acceptance. "If he needs assistance…"

The demon waved a hand dismissively in the air. "By all means. Knock yourself out." She moved closer to him, breathing in his scent. "I advise against it though. _But if you're prepared to take that risk…._"

Dean was prepared to take any risk if it meant saving his brother. He tried not to grimace as he braced himself for a Demon-Tongue sandwich.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam glanced at the clock on the wall anxiously. Dean's thirty minutes was almost up and Sam really didn't want to…._leave_ without saying goodbye.

But when the clock struck thirty five minutes past the hour, he nodded to Dr Michaels and the EMTs; Bobby and Ellen, after a few words whispered words of encouragement and hugs were exchanged, moved outside to give them all room to work.

"You sure about this?" The doc looked at him anxiously, silently begging him to change his mind.

"Just do it." Sam stared hard at the door, praying Dean would walk through any moment.

"Ok." Dr Michaels pressed a transparent mask over Sam's mouth and nose. "I'm gonna put you out first so you don't feel any pain." He swallowed nervously as he reached for the gas tap. "Then I'll give you the injections that should stop your heart without damaging it. After three minutes we use CPR and the paddles to bring you back."

"No! Three minutes won't be long enough. I need at least five!" Sam exclaimed, glaring at him.

The doc sighed. "It's too damn risky…"

"Five minutes!" Sam insisted angrily.

"I…" the poor doc tried again.

"You the heard the man. Five minutes it is." A voice declared from the doorway. "And not a second longer."

"Dean." Sam looked up as his older brother stalked over and planted himself on Sam's bed, he pulled the mask away from Sam's face, then pressed his hands firmly into the pillow on either side of Sam's head.

"I take it you didn't find another way." Sam tried to keep his voice steady, but in truth Sam was scared shitless at what he was about to do. He and his brother had done some pretty freaky stuff over the years, but this….

Dean's jaw clenched as he grit his teeth, staring hard at Sam's face. "No. I didn't. I'm agreeing to this 'cos we don't have any other options. But you have to promise me somethin' Sam."

Sam had rarely seen his brother like this: scared, desperate and angry. "Okay." He replied slowly.

Dean got right in Sam's face, almost threateningly. "We bring you back after five minutes, no matter what happens. Right? I _mean_ it Sam! No fightin' us!" He virtually growled at his little brother.

Sam nodded. "I promise." He whispered.

"And the first sign of trouble, I'm comin' in after ya." The expression on Dean's face not only dared Sam to argue but also the seriously freaked out doctor standing behind him.

Sam blinked. "How…"

"How will I know?" Dean smirked at little. "I always know when you're in trouble." He considered that for a second, one eyebrow raised. "Or causin' it."

The atmosphere lightened a little at the paradoxically dark humour, and the brothers grinned at each other.

Dean glanced over his shoulder. "Hey guys. Give us a minute wouldja?"

Dr Michaels, Chris and Max looked up from their preparations and checks, then shuffled wordlessly out of the room.

Sam tipped his head on one side, trying to read his brother. "What did you do Dean?"

Huffing out a breath, Dean leaned back and replied "I had the most interesting conversation…"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam glared at him. "You did WHAT?!"

Dean didn't even flinch. He'd been expecting this.

"Sam, it's done now. So let's get on with it, ok?"

Sam shook his slowly, eyes wide with angry amazement. It was Sam's turn to be speechless.

Dean sighed. "Ok…."

And began explaining the weird meeting at the cross roads.

By the time he'd finished, Sam was looking thoughtful. "I think you're right. She is hiding something. Let's face it, that's practically part of their job description."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Question is: what? And how does it affect us?"

"I get the distinct feeling I'll find that out soon enough Dean."

The brothers stared at each other for a long moment.

In spite of the attempts to hide it, Dean could tell Sam was scared, and who wouldn't be? So he did something that was incredibly un-Dean like, something he hadn't done since after the last deal he made, the deal that brought Sam back to life.

Careful of Sam's broken arm, he gently hauled his little brother into his arms and held on tight. And after a moment had passed for him to get over the shock, Sam returned the hug with equal fierceness.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"You ready for this?" Dr Michaels, much to his despair, found himself back at Sam's bedside, his patient (_soon to be deceased patient! _His mind screamed wildly at him) resettled with the mask over his face once more.

Sam nodded and the doc, with a shaky hand, turned the tap on the gas cylinder, the loud squeaking filling the otherwise silent room.

Dean stared at Sam, every instinct urging him to put a stop to this. But he knew there was no other way. His younger brother stared back at him, eyes growing heavy.

Dean leaned into Sam's ear. "You come back to me. Ya hear me Sammy?"

He just about heard Sam whisper "I promise."

And when he pulled back Sam's eyes were closed.

Dr Michaels stood by waiting for Dean to give him the go ahead.

"Ok." Dean watched as Dr Michaels gave his little brother what amounted to a lethal injection.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors:**_

Well, brotherly arguments, brotherly hugs, brotherly angst…it's all getting rather sickening isn't it? (chuckles to herself)

If Jared and Jensen ever have the misfortune to find this story, and stupidly decide to read it, then by the time they've made it this far they'll need a couple of skips just to hold all the vomit!

Sorry. I know some of you out there get really pissed off when I berate my own stories, but you gotta admit! They'd be horrified! I mean, I've not even given them a decent punch up…

…_yet!_

Many thanks for all your reviews, and hope you all continue to enjoy this fic.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	9. Chapter 9

**RTC Chapter 9**

"…_**he's the one McAllister's after. But I'll bet you got Sam so well protected that he can't even get close." She heaved in a deep contented sigh. "Sam can't walk, which means he can't fight, at least not in physical form. And you can't in all good conscience let your ghosty into the hospital…All. Those. People." She gave another amused grin with a slight tilt to her head. "So there's only one other way…"**_

_**Dean's nostrils flared, despair burrowing its way into his heart. "Sam has to die…" he answered coldly.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Dean stared at Sam, every instinct urging him to put a stop to this. But he knew there was no other way. His younger brother stared back at him, eyes growing heavy.**_

_**Dean leaned into Sam's ear. "You come back to me. Ya hear me Sammy?"**_

_**He just about heard Sam whisper "I promise."**_

_**And when he pulled back Sam's eyes were closed.**_

_**Dr Michaels stood by waiting for Dean to give him the go ahead.**_

"_**Ok." Dean watched as Dr Michaels gave his little brother what amounted to a lethal injection.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

_**Allow me to introduce to you the comedic genius that IS Robert Lindsay.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Is he…?" Dean's question was rather unnecessary given the high pitched whine of the cardiac monitor.

Dr Michaels couldn't bring himself to speak and merely nodded. All his energies were currently spent on trying not to throw up. In a kind of daze, he was calculating just how much of his salary he was gonna have to spend on therapy once this ludicrous business was finally over, and if he'd be able to wrangle a tax concession for it.

_Hmm. Doubtful. The IRS are worse than sniffer dogs; no __**way **__will I get away with that one: "I needed counselling after killing my patient so he could face down some kind of ghost, oh but it's ok 'cos the crazy bastard __**volunteered**_ _**for it**__!! _

All in all, he still hoped like hell that this was just a _really_ bad dream, and that he'd wake up soon.

But that whining continued; the noise that signalled Sam Winchester's death.

Dean stared at Sam, occasionally glancing at his watch as the seconds ticked by.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam clutched his head, the noise painful. He crouched down trying to get his bearings, and finally, _thankfully,_ the whining faded into the background. It made him painfully aware that he was on the clock, and time was running out. Getting shakily to his feet, he turned and glanced back at the road.

_Jordan's Crossing. Here's where it all gets decided, _he thought.

"I'm here you sonofabitch! Come and get me!" Sam turned again, eyes squinting into the unnatural darkness. "Well? You got me where you want me!"

A hushed silence behind him kicked his senses into gear; slowly turning back he met the cold blue eyeless sockets of The Driver.

McAllister gave a small bow.

"_**So you finally changed your mind. I knew you'd see sense."**_ He indicated the coach idling silently behind him._** "When you're ready boy."**_

Sam straightened his back and raised his chin. "I want to know what happened."

The Driver appeared to regard him quizzically. _**"What difference does it make now?"**_

Sam shrugged, then clenched his jaw. "Curiosity, I guess. If I'm just gonna hand myself over to you in exchange for my brother's life, I think I'm entitled to know."

McAllister stepped forward, and Sam tried not to flinch when a skeletal hand came to rest on his shoulder. _**"Let me show you…"**_

A brilliant flash of light had Sam swaying violently, and he shut his eyes to fight off the nausea. When he opened them again, the road was bathed in sunlight.

The Driver was still there, watching him closely.

"You made a deal at the cross roads right? I figured that much out." Sam realised that he was watching a scene from over fifty years ago. The bus came trundling along the road, dust kicking up as the wheels spun.

The Driver merely nodded.

"So how did you get out of it?" Sam demanded.

McAllister grinned. _**"Watch." **_He winked._** "And you will see."**_

A low rumble started up through the earth, building in force and strength until the ground was shaking. Oddly enough, Sam could feel it but it didn't affect him. If he'd really been there it surely would have knocked him off his feet.

The bus, however, was a different matter altogether. It began to careen out of control, as its driver fought against the shock waves.

"This was the earthquake that happened that year, right?" When McAllister nodded, Sam continued worriedly. "The bus disappeared along with you and all the passengers."

At that moment the brakes on the coach squealed in protest, but it didn't stop the vehicle from plunging off the edge of the road. Sam ran towards it, hearing the tearing metal and the terrified screams of the passengers, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. He watched in anguish as a large fissure opened up in the tortured, twisted ground beneath the road, engulfing the entire bus. The side of the road suddenly gave way, crumbling down, burying the bus deep in earth and rock, until Sam could no longer hear the people crying out for help.

"_**No one ever found them. They stayed alive for a few hours 'til they ran out of oxygen."**_ McAllister seemed to glide over towards the edge of the road to stand beside Sam. _**"They suffocated. And all because of an earthquake. **_

_**Just sheer. Bad. Luck."**_

He slowly turned to face Sam, blue sockets seeming to wink at him again.

The sun slid quickly down the sky and night fell almost instantly, and Sam knew there was more to come.

There came a cold silence.

"_**Another deal was struck."**_

His voice pushed shards of ice into Sam's soul.

The human form of McAllister appeared in front of Sam, and blinked at his surroundings. He didn't seem to acknowledge Sam or The Driver. This_ was_ in the past after all.

"What happened here? Where am I?" James called out fearfully.

"I believe I can answer that for you." Another voice spoke. It sounded amused.

Sam turned to watch as someone approached James. The guy was average build, dark hair, English accent, dressed in a white suit, but what really caught Sam's attention were the deep crimson red eyes.

Sam's gaze shot to The Driver. "That's not the cross road demon."

The Driver continued grinning. _**"No. He's so much more than that."**_

Sam froze in shock as he realised what he was saying, how he had referred to the victims as _they_ rather than _we._

He listened to the deal being struck between James and the demon.

"I want fresh souls in hell. You want to _stay out of hell_. Am I right?"

"Yeah, but…" James stammered. "How? I'm dead, aren't I?"

"You certainly are. And any second now that irritating little bitch from the cross roads will be here to collect her payment." The demon moved closer to James. "I can save you from all that…_pain and torture._ You stay here, be my ferryman, bring fresh _innocent _souls down to hell, and I make sure you stay out of the pit."

James regarded him suspiciously. "And that's it? That's all I do?"

The demon smiled. "Well, there are one or two conditions. Firstly, I'll need to make a few alterations…" A black cloud arose from the broken ground and smothered the ghost of McAllister, his cries suddenly muffled. "And secondly, I want the chosen one, the so called leader of all the circles of hell in our grasp. One day he'll come, and you'll be waiting for him. You only stay out of hell if you succeed in trapping him on that bus. _Ferryman!_"

Sam blinked rapidly, feeling a headache developing. "You somehow possessed a human ghost? I've never heard of that before!"

The Driver seemed to stare at him. _**"Not many have."**_

"I don't understand," Sam watched James as he slowly decayed in front of him. "Why me? All this crap about me leading hell's army…"

"_**It's the ultimate cosmic joke. Sam Winchester, an innocent." **_A small chuckle._** " The demon you see here is my superior, the most powerful and ancient entity in all of hell. So old even humans have forgotten his true name."**_ The Driver made a disapproving tutting noise with what was left of his tongue.

__

"_**Always a mistake."**_ He chuckled, the sound a disgusting gurgle that made Sam feel sick.

_**"You people know him as Lucifer."**_ The blue in his sockets flared slightly.

Sam gaped in sheer astonishment.

"_**When he heard what Azazel had done he was furious. You see, my boss won't be challenged for the leadership. He **_**is**_** hell's leader. The fallen one, who once sat by the right hand of God." **_He pretty much spat that last word out in disgust._** "And you don't get much higher than that. **_

_**There's only one Lucifer; there's no room for two at the top!"**_

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're talking about the Morning Star himself? So all this…" he indicated the road, the demon, James McAllister, _The Devil_? "…_this_, was all about getting hold of me?" He shook his head. "What was he planning on doing with me?"

With lightening speed, Lucifer turned away from James and faced Sam, the smile on his face almost charming as his eyes flickered in all colours.

"Why Sam Winchester, I intend to lock you away in your own personal private hell for all eternity. You see, I don't like competition." His hand shot out and grasped Sam's neck in a strangle hold. "Unlike your father, you won't escape so easily." He smiled as Sam gasped for air, his hands clawing at his throat desperately trying to break free.

"You won't escape _at all."_

Sam knew this wasn't real. He was dead, albeit briefly, but he didn't need air. So why did it feel as though the very life was being choked out of him?

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"That's it! Bring him back!" Dean barked out, anxiety colouring his tone with anger. Something felt very wrong; the five minutes wasn't up yet, but Dean didn't care. He wanted Sam back _now._

Dr Michaels and the EMTs got to work with the defibrillator paddles…

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam felt a familiar pain dart through his chest.

There it went again, but this time it was intense and his whole body jolted in Lucifer's grip.

"Whatever they're doing to bring you back, it's not going to work Sam. You're _mine _now."

Sam struggled to break the grip on his windpipe, and the sharp pains in his chest grew fierce.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam come back!" Dean was yelling desperately, almost loud enough to crack a wine glass by now. "You promised…" His voice broke as the EMTs and the doctor prepared to shock his little brother once more.

Dean looked up as Bobby appeared round the door. "Dean! What in hell's goin' on!"

"They've been trying for ten minutes to bring him back." Dean got up and strode over to the other bed. "I'm going in after him."

Bobby gaped. "You can't be serious! Dean, don't be stupid!"

But Dean had made up his mind. "Chris? Get over here!"

The EMT looked up and nodded before crossing the room.

"You know what to do?"

Chris nodded nervously. "Yeah." He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Come back safe."

Bobby shook his head. "No way! I'm not letting you throw your life away again…"

"Sam promised me he wouldn't fight the resuscitation, that he'd come back!" Dean retorted angrily. "He keeps his promises. If Sam hasn't made it back it's because something or someone is holding him there. The damn Driver may already have forced Sam onto the coach, but while there's still a chance I WON'T give up on him!"

Bobby fell silent and sighed.

Dean wasn't going to be talked out of it. "Ok Dean." He whispered sadly. "We'll do it your way."

Dean lay back as Chris prepared the syringe, doing his best to ignore the stricken expression on the doctor's face.

Dr Michaels inwardly groaned.

_That's it. When this is over I'm heading out to Korea to teach English language to the local kids. Anything's gotta be less stressful than this. _

_Perhaps Lion tamer and Killer Bee Keeper will have more relaxing job descriptions._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean stared ahead, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He'd declined the gas to knock him out; Sam didn't have that kind of time and may well be already locked in battle.

As the syringe entered his arm, Dean tried to relax but the pain of the drug soon attacking his heart was immense.

Bobby could barely watch as Dean bucked, his back arching off the bed in agony. Pretty soon another high pitched whine joined the first one as Dean's body abruptly stilled, falling silent.

Bobby drew in a shaky breath, listening to the ominous sound of two flatlines.

_Please, if there's any kind of God, let them come back safe._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam?"

Sam could barely move in Lucifer's grip.

_And Azazel picked me to lead his stupid army? I couldn't pull the testicles off a blue bottle right now!_

"Sam!"

Sam managed to shift his eyes over to the right and felt a mixed flood of relief and fear when he saw his brother.

"Dean?"

Dean looked as though he was going to take a step towards him, until Sam managed to stop him with a strained whisper.

"No…D..Dean don't. Y..you don't kn..know…" Sam couldn't help the choked gurgle leave his throat as Lucifer squeezed Sam's windpipe to almost crushing point, before throwing Sam to the ground. Sam coughed and spluttered, hand rubbing at his painful neck.

The very Devil himself spun round rather theatrically.

He smiled at Sam's brother. "Well, what a pleasure Dean Winchester. We finally meet." He glanced at his watch. "A few months earlier than I anticipated of course, but no matter."

Dean scowled. "Who the hell are you?"

Raising an amused eyebrow Lucifer replied "Hell? Funny you should say that old chap."

With a dramatic, sweeping bow, he began to sing.

__

"_**Please allow me to introduce myself  
I'm a man of wealth and taste  
I've been around for a long, long year  
Stole many a man's soul and faith."**_

When Dean just stared at him, The Devil sighed. "Honestly, you kids! Do I really have to spell it out?"

With a little sidestep, complete with a twirl Fred Astaire would've been proud of, he continued.

"_**Pleased to meet you  
Hope you guessed my name,  
But what's confusing you  
Is just the nature of my game"**_

At another blank stare, Lucifer sighed again, more than a little frustrated by now. "Is it _really _too much to ask for you youngsters to show a little respect for your elders?"

"_**Just as every cop is a criminal  
And all the sinners saints  
As heads is tails  
Just call me Lucifer  
'Cause I'm in need of some restraint**_

_**So if you meet me  
Have some courtesy  
**_

_**Have some sympathy, and some taste  
Use all your well-learned politesse  
**__**Or I'll lay your soul to waste."**_

Dean raised an eyebrow of his own and glanced over at Sam, jerking his chin towards what he decided to call 'crazy bastard in the gay white suit'

"He shittin' me?"

Sam winced a little. "'Fraid not dude."

Dean pursed his mouth thoughtfully.

"Huh." Then he grinned a little. "Love that song by the way."

Lucifer gave Dean one of his most charming smiles. "Gotta love the Stones eh? Ya know, I commissioned Mick Jagger for that one?"

Dean leaned forward, more than a little impressed. "Really!"

"Dean!" Sam had got to his feet by now, feeling more than a little put out. Here he was trying to save his brother from the pit, and all he could talk about was music? "Do you mind? I think we've got slightly more pressing matters to attend to!"

Lucifer appeared to be casually examining his fingernails, whilst The Driver made a move towards Sam. That shook Dean out of the Rolling Stones Admiration Society, and he backed away to stand beside his brother.

The Driver grinned. "_**You boys surely don't have much time left. Why waste it?"**_

Dean watched as The Driver drifted forwards and Lucifer backed off, content to watch the entertainment from the sidelines. After all, _he_ didn't need to get his hands dirty these days. The invention of cattle prods, email and most annoying of all, post-it notes had seen to that, but he couldn't resist the chance of meeting the Winchester brothers up close and personal.

"Sam? What the hells goin' on here?" Dean spoke out the corner of his mouth without taking his eyes off The Driver.

"Uh…McAllister got out of the deal by making a new one. With The Devil." Sam swallowed nervously as The Driver raised a hand.

"And?" Dean and Sam instantly dropped into a fighting stance, preparing for who the hell knew what?

"The bus and the passengers were buried in the earthquake. On McAllister's death, he agreed to become a Ferryman." The Driver appeared to be regarding the brother's with curious amusement as Sam finished the explanation. "But to do that, his spirit had to become possessed by a demon, one of The Devil's _disciples_ as it were."

Dean considered that for a second.

"They can do that? Really?" He paused. "Huh. Makes sense." He shrugged. "I think."

The Driver grinned, whilst Lucifer brushed some invisible lint off his lapels.

"_**Let the battle commence."**_

Dean just rolled his eyes.

_Can't these guys come up with something more original? _He thought ruefully, right before he found himself airborne and he landed with a loud grunt on the road. Dean shook his head trying to clear his vision as Sam yelled to him.

"Dean? Y'all right?"

"Havin' a ball little bro!"

Sam advanced on The Driver, surprised when he was able to grab him, but then in this place they were all ghosts. Sam just fervently hoped that state of affairs wouldn't become permanent for himself and Dean.

Sam launched a fist at his opponent, but his wrist was caught in a vice-like grip as The Driver blocked the blow. Sam shivered, feeling an icy cold creep along his arm. He found he couldn't break free no matter how hard he struggled, but what really immobilised him was the crushing pain in his chest, which released a terrible agonised howl from his own mouth. He stared into the blue eyeless sockets, feeling his own strength draining away.

Before Dean could get to his feet he heard his brother cry out in pain. Finally able to look up, Dean's eyes widened fearfully.

The Driver had his hand buried deep in Sam's chest, clutching at his heart as Sam writhed in agony; at the same time he was being dragged towards the coach.

"_**I know you got soul, Winchester!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

_**Author's notes:**_

So, here's another cliff hanger.

Anyone spot The Prophesy influence? It's really just becoming a game of 'spot the film' here isn't it?

A wee bit of Dogma? Anyone?

Hope you found this chapter a decent mix of angst and amusement.

My version of Lucifer in this story would be played by Robert Lindsay of BBC's 'My Family', after having seen the infamous Halloween episode the other night. He just seemed perfect for it! The white suit, however, comes from the film Constantine.

For those of you who don't know who Robert Lindsay is, he is an extremely talented comedy actor (starred in the 1997 hit comedy film Fierce Creatures alongside John Cleese, Kevin Cline and Jamie Lee Curtis) who often reminds me of an English Kevin Spacey.

I'm not gonna insult you by mentioning the song in this chapter. If you don't know it then you should be ashamed of yourselves! (grins)

Let me know what ya think m'darlin's!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	10. Chapter 10

**RTC Chapter 10**

"_**You made a deal at the cross roads right? I figured that much out." Sam realised that he was watching a scene from over fifty years ago. The bus came trundling along the road, dust kicking up as the wheels spun.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**So how did you get out of it?" Sam demanded.**_

_**McAllister grinned. **__**"Watch." **__**He winked.**__** "And you will see."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**No one ever found them. They stayed alive for a few hours 'til they ran out of oxygen."**__** McAllister seemed to glide over towards the edge of the road to stand beside Sam. **__**"They suffocated. And all because of an earthquake. **_

_**Just sheer. Bad. Luck."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**He slowly turned to face Sam, blue sockets seeming to wink at him again.**_

_**The sun slid quickly down the sky and night fell almost instantly, and Sam knew there was more to come.**_

_**There came a cold silence.**_

"_**Another deal was struck."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

"_**You people know him as Lucifer."**__** The blue in his sockets flared slightly.**_

_**Sam gaped in sheer astonishment.**_

"_**When he heard what Azazel had done he was furious. You see, my boss won't be challenged for the leadership. He **__**is**__** hell's leader. The fallen one, who once sat by the right hand of God." **__**He pretty much spat that last word out in disgust.**__** "And you don't get much higher than that. **_

_**There's only one Lucifer; there's no room for two at the top!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**They've been trying for ten minutes to bring him back." Dean got up and strode over to the other bed. "I'm going in after him."**_

_**Bobby gaped. "You can't be serious! Dean, don't be stupid!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Before Dean could get to his feet he heard his brother cry out in pain. Finally able to look up, Dean's eyes widened fearfully.**_

_**The Driver had his hand buried deep in Sam's chest, clutching at his heart as Sam writhed in agony; at the same time he was being dragged towards the coach.**_

"_**I know you got soul, Winchester!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

There are at least two kinds of fighter, warrior, call it what you will.

There's peace. It is tightly controlled emotion. There are no quiet, calm waters flowing through some meadow, with doves cooing softly in the bows of an ancient oak tree.

But it's as close as it gets.

Temper doesn't come into it, feeling holds no assault. There's reason, thought and measure. And, under the correct controlled conditions, it can _annihilate._

But those conditions rarely arise when needed.

There's anger. Still controlled emotion, but with frighteningly _less_ constraint, that is liable to give way any second. And when it does?

It packs a lethal punch. The difference is temper gets a say with this fighter, not to imply that it's ever a democracy to start with. Never kid yourself with _that_ one.

If complete control is lost, as is likely, the consequences are devastating.

Then there's the third. It's where the peace and anger, held on two opposite ends of the world, the _universe_, start their journey. They don't know each other that well, having not been through the formal introductions. But as anger builds on one side of the scale, peace grows on the other.

And it's where they meet in the middle that it gets interesting; it's where the fighter realises the truth.

He realises he can win.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam!" Dean yelled out desperately when he saw his brother deep in agony, being dragged to the coach. "NOOOOOO!"

Sam had the presence of mind to whisper a message. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

"_Romanum..."_

And Dean heard him. He heard him and started to recite.

As soon as the words left his brother's mouth, Sam _realised!_

He realised he could win.

_Had_ to win.

All his peace, love, his anger, all the fear, dread and loss, met in the middle at the point marked _I've had e-fucking-nough!_ Adrenaline pounded through him, tightened his muscles, tightened his resolve, _heightened_ his strength. And it poured out of him in a rush of power, likened to a Harrisburg Reactor on melt-down.

Dean knew it the second he saw the gleam in Sam's eyes.

_This could get really bad_.

He wasn't far off in his estimation.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam reached up, grabbed The Driver's wrist and twisted. The limb came off in his hand and Sam dropped it immediately before wrapping his hand around McAllister's throat. He vaguely acknowledged the slimy, icy feeling and rammed the demon up against the coach door.

"Hear that?" Sam jerked his head in the direction of his brother. "That's Dean exorcising you, you bastard!"

The Driver gave him an incredulous look. "_**You really think that's gonna work? With someone like me?"**_ He shook his head slightly and smiled. "_**Not likely my boy."**_

He threw out his remaining hand and Dean was flying through the air once more, to land with a painful groan further along the road.

Sam felt something stir within him. Something he hadn't felt since..._Max._

He shook right down to his soul, as he gathered strength.

And _finally_...

...he let go.

The Driver smiled smugly.

"_**I told you, didn't I? You could easily defeat me!"**_

The Driver was crushed into the metal of the coach, and the battle commenced.

Sam felt the tug as he was drawn towards the bus, but hit out with his fist, smashing into The Driver's jaw. McAllister barely flinched, but what remained of his jaw bone fell apart with sickening ease.

Sam glared at him and The Driver somehow still managed to grin.

"_**Come and get me!"**_

As taunts went it really wasn't anything special, but it was enough to piss off Sam Winchester.

He made a decision, one that was about to _really_ piss off his brother.

Sam stepped on board the coach. Hearing Dean's fearful yells, Sam turned and faced the captive audience. He wasn't entirely surprised to find that it went on forever. There were literally _hundreds _of victims here.

And now Sam understood. By taking souls on board the coach, The Driver had committed them to hell, because the bus itself _was a part of hell._

"Go. You can all leave now. Just go."

_Of course_ it couldn't be that simple. It never is.

And the passengers, decomposing faces set in an eerie grimace, turned on Sam, rising up, glaring, searching his eyes and tearing into him.

And Sam let them.

They _couldn't_ be allowed off the coach.

_He just let them._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean glanced towards The Devil, who was watching with barely concealed glee.

Sam felt the power building, gathering strength as he fought against the damned. Anger warred with the peace within him once again, and he willed them to grab hold and spiral inwards, _to work together_. The fighting factions finally fell into submission as they listened to their commander.

Sam was now in complete control, and God help anyone who got in his way.

God help, indeed...

It was different to the explosion at the cemetery in Wyoming. Yeah, it was spectacular and scary, but it carried something else that was far more..._intense._

Shock waves passed through all who were present, and the ground opened up, a huge crater appearing in the earth as the bus, with Sam still on board, plummeted downwards.

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It took Dean some time before he understood that it was Just. Pure. Sam.

_Freaky_ Sam admittedly. But Sam nonetheless. He hadn't gone dark side.

Never could, never would.

And instead of clouds of black Dean found himself surrounded with all shades, some in colours and lights that blinded him, as the exorcism was complete.

It was over as quickly as it started.

The Driver was gone.

Dean heard and felt it all. The ground shook, the air became hard to breathe as ozone filtered through like an invading army. But when he'd seen Sam voluntarily embarking the coach, all he felt was anger and fear. He wanted to throttle his younger brother.

When the bus fell headlong into the enormous crater, Dean let loose an animal cry of anguish.

"SAMMY NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

He watched in despair as earth and rock tumbled towards the bus, covering it, _burying _it. The noise was horrendous; a mix of grumbling earth and shattering tarmac, complete with tearing metal and grinding as if the very Earth itself was being force fed a giant metal enema.

"Oh God Sam!" Dean whispered as he witnessed the damned bus being swamped by a river of rock and rubble.

He stood at the edge of the road in dumb silence, a thousand thoughts roaming his mind. Chief of which was _would he be able to get Sam back?_

There was no question. Sam was coming back one way or another.

He heard an amused chuckling and he spun round.

"Let me guess. This is what you had planned all along, right?" Dean asked angrily. "But why? What was the damn point of all this?"

Lucifer took out a mother of pearl cigarette holder. The end ignited and The Morning Star took a deep drag.

"Why? Because it amuses me of course." He blew the smoke out, and Dean could vaguely smell the tobacco. "I am..." He gave a twirl "..._The Devil._"

"Yeah, I get that!"

"So?" The Devil grinned at him at little hopefully. When he gained no response he sighed. "Oh, so the crap really starts here doesn't it!" He was pretty irritated by now. "You know, you humans are bloody _unbelievable_! Why 'im upstairs bothers putting so much faith in you is quite beyond me! The only reason I have anything to do with you lot is because it's so much fun to mess with you. But if I were him? I'd have abandoned you ungrateful bastards a long time ago!"

Dean was incredulous. "So-called God _did_ abandon us. That's why we're in this damn mess!"

Lucifer sneered. "As much as it pains me to bring you this revelation _hunter_, but that's the _wrong answer! _He never abandoned humans. If he _had_, then hunters wouldn't have existed in the first bloody place. No, his only mistake was granting you..._people_...free will."

Dean fell silent as he considered that.

Lucifer nodded with grim satisfaction. "So it's finally sinking in is it? God gave you people freedom of choice, the ability to fight for that freedom, the ability to _defend it!_" He smirked. "And all you've done is throw it back in his face. Which is why he and I had a bit of a barney in the first place. He loved you above all else, including his faithful _slaves_. US!"

"What?!" Dean barked out, anger really getting a grip now. "He allowed my mother to be murdered, my father to give up his life for my worthless ass, and then..." He faltered, sadly.

The Devil studied him carefully. "Sam was taken. And then _you_ made the choice to bring him back." He nodded thoughtfully, leaning in towards him conspiratorially. "Not that I wish to blow his trumpet...or any part of his anatomy come to that...but it wasn't down to God that your mother died. Or me even. But your father's death? Sam's? Yours? Now _this is where the free will comes in_. So listen carefully." He leaned back again, grinning smugly. 

"Your dad _chose_ to give up his life for you. Jake _chose_ to stab your brother." Giving a slight shake of his head, he finished with "Nothing to do with me mate. Or God."

"You honestly expect me to believe that God exists?" Dean growled, more than a little rattled.

"I don't expect you to believe anything. That's your choice." Lucifer's grin widened. "Though I can assure you he does. The irony eh?"

Dean didn't know what to say, and it wasn't because he had nothing _to_ say. Just the opposite. He just didn't know what kind of order to put it all in. But chief among his thoughts was the overriding urge to shove that cigarette so far up Lucifer's ass that sparks would fly out of his nose.

And when he voiced that opinion sparks certainly began to fly.

As Dean faced off with The Devil, he was pretty sure it would be his last fight.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_Charge 300. Clear!_

Sam felt the shocks spread through his body, and he writhed in pain.

_He's back, finally!_

_Thank God. Now get him stabilised and let's get an x-ray of his chest. CPR might've caused more damage. Get that IV set up._

There was a brief pause.

_Where's that number for the psychiatric ward? I had it here somewhere...oh yeah..._

_**Brrrrriiiinnngggg**_

_Yeah hi, I'm just calling to inform you that we're sending you a patient...yeah...uhuh...I know you're beds are full but believe me this guy really needs help now. Sure? I'll send him over ASAP. No...not a problem. He has his own straight jacket...yeah? That's great. His name? Dr Michaels. Yep. _

_Who am I?_

_I'm Dr Michaels._

_Stop laughing!...It's not funny._

A brief whimper as the pleading started up.

_Please don't turn me away..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam felt the world shift as awareness gradually encroached. He heard the bleeping of the machines, and the muttering of voices, one of which he was pretty certain belonged to a rather freaked Dr Michaels. But as he became fully receptive, he realised that the voices were frantic.

His eyes snapped open.

"Dean?" He whispered.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Robert Lindsay still rules as Lucifer, though there was also a certain Alan Rickman feel in there somewhere, or is that just me?

Dear old Doc Michaels. Played by Matthew Perry perhaps?

This one is a little shorter than usual I know. I apologise for that, but sincerely hope you still enjoy the chapter.

Let me know my darlings, and many thanks for all your support so far.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	11. Chapter 11

**RTC Chapter 11**

**It's completely unlike me to name my chapters, but if pushed I would have to name this one**

**Heaven and Hell...Part 1**

**(From the song by Black Sabbath)**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Sam felt the power building, gathering strength. Anger warred with the peace within him once again, and he willed them to grab hold and spiral inwards, to work together. The fighting factions finally fell into submission as they listened to their commander.**_

_**Sam was now in complete control, and God help anyone who got in his way.**_

_**God help, indeed...**_

_**It was different to the explosion at the cemetery in Wyoming. Yeah, it was spectacular and scary, but it carried something else that was far more...intense.**_

_**Shock waves passed through all who were present, and the ground opened up, a huge crater appearing in the earth as the bus, with Sam still on board, plummeted downwards.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**It took Dean some time before he understood that it was Just. Pure. Sam.**_

_**Freaky Sam admittedly. But Sam nonetheless. He hadn't gone dark side.**_

_**Never could, never would.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Lucifer sneered. "As much as it pains me to bring you this revelation hunter, but that's the wrong answer! He never abandoned humans. If he had, then hunters wouldn't have existed in the first bloody place. No, his only mistake was granting you...people...free will."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Sam felt the world shift as awareness gradually encroached. He heard the bleeping of the machines, and the muttering of voices, one of which he was pretty certain belonged to a rather freaked Dr Michaels. But as he became fully receptive, he realised that the voices were frantic.**_

_**His eyes snapped open.**_

"_**Dean?" He whispered.**_

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Sing me a song, you're a singer  
do me a wrong, you're a bringer of evil  
The Devil is never a maker  
the less that you give, you're a taker  
So it's on and on and on, **_

_**It's Heaven and Hell...  
**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It looked to everyone in the room as though an ethereal firework display were taking place, as the walls lit up in a kaleidoscope of colours. It was almost as if someone had taken all the sunlight in the world and shone it through a huge crystal, the prism splitting the light into a million glass shards.

It was almost blinding.

Then Bobby turned to see Sam struggling to sit up and immediately pushed him back down. "Easy there Sam. You've been out for a while..."

"No. You don't understand! Dean's in big trouble Bobby, you have to let me go back..."

Bobby hardened his gaze. "Forget it! No way."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"So." Lucifer grinned at Dean. "Hurts does it?"

"What does?" Dean frowned in confusion, still wondering what had happened to Sam. Was he hurt? Was he dead? No, somehow he didn't think so and in any case he refused to think like _that_.

He suddenly bent double as agony shot through his chest and abdomen. "Ah Christ not again!" He gasped.

"Now you see? That's just what makes him so angry," Lucifer sneered. "His son had absolutely nothing to do with any of this, but as usual you people insist on _dragging_ him into it. When are you humans going to start taking some responsibility for your actions? It's nothing to do with Christ, and I'm not the one who commits all the atrocities in the world. I merely make the suggestion. It's your _free_ _will _that's the real culprit here. And _all_ actions have consequences, like it or not!"

Dean stared at him in angry amazement. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean growled out through the pain.

"That's a bit more bloody like it!" The Devil clasped his hands behind his back and strode up and down like a regimental sergeant major inspecting his troops.

"Sam was killed outright by a human. Fair's fair, it was over for him..."

"The bastard stabbed him in the back! What's so fucking fair about that?!" Dean yelled and advanced on Lucifer, who obviously wasn't in the least bit afraid.

Lucifer stopped pacing and glared hard at the kid. "People get killed all the time by such methods, some far more painful and far messier. What makes Sam's case so much more special than the others? Go on, _justify yourself!_" He stepped right up into Dean's face just as Dean went toe to toe with him. "What gave you the right to change the natural course of events?"

He jabbed Dean hard in the stomach with a finger. "Indeed, what gave you the right to wrench him out of Heaven and give him back his life?

_Do you even realise what you've done to him?"_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**They say that life's a carousel **_

_**Spinning fast, you've got to ride it well  
The world is full of Kings and Queens  
who blind your eyes and steal your dreams  
It's Heaven and Hell, oh well  
And they'll tell you black is really white  
The moon is just the sun at night  
And when you walk in golden halls  
you get to keep the gold that falls  
It's Heaven and Hell, oh no!**_

**Fool, fool!**

**You've got to bleed for the dancer!**

**Fool, fool!**

_**Look for the answer!**_

**Fool, fool, fool!**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam tried to raise himself up but fell back at the sharp pain in his ribs, the movement tugging painfully on the stitches.

Dr Michaels, Max and Chris were desperately trying to re-start Dean's heart, but as Sam stared at the cardiac monitor, heard the high-pitched squeal, the flat line became the centre of his world and he felt nothing but absolute and total black despair.

"Dean, come back!" Sam whispered, and flinched at the all too familiar sight of his brother's body bucking and arching under the difib paddles. "Don't leave me..."

It went on for long desperate minutes and Sam could almost feel his own heart trying to pound its way out of his chest.

"Please...you can't give up now. Not when we're so close..." Sam whispered again.

When nothing worked and the EMTs were about ready to give up, Sam went ballistic.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ give up on him. Get me up NOW!" He screamed angrily. When no one made a move to help him, he threw the covers back and one at a time used his good hand to drag his legs over the edge of the bed. Wincing at the agony that tore through his chest, he made a grab at the wheel chair someone had thoughtfully placed by Sam's bed. But he missed, grasped at nothing but air, and found himself toppling forward, about to smash his face into the tiled floor. He felt someone catch him, stopping his fall, and a comforting voice right up close to his ear.

"It's ok son. I'll help you. Just try to calm down..." Then Bobby glared over his shoulder at Dr Michaels. "You heard the boy, keep tryin' and don't you damn well stop 'til ya brought Dean back, ya hear? Or someone's soon gonna be wearing those paddles in a real inconvenient place!"

Dr Michaels gaped like a fish out of water, his mouth falling open uselessly only to snap shut again.

_Oh suuuurrrre. We keep tryin' 'til we bring him back. Yeah, 'cos __**that's so damn easy**__. Oh yeah, I do it all the time. For kicks. It's a hobby of mine. Started back in med school and now? I just can't give it up didn't ya know? Oh and uh...__**I'm not the only one who's**__**insane round here!**_He knew better than to continue his personal 'rant of extreme sarcasm' out loud, and kept it within the confines of his own head. But he had the sneakiest idea that they all knew.

Sighing morosely, Dr Michaels picked up the paddles and once again tried to bring Howlin' Mad Winchester (Mark 1, he added) back from the brink.

In the meantime, Howlin Mad Winchester (Mark 2) was being helped into the wheelchair by his Uncle (Howlin' Mad Singer, it seemed).

Whilst Sam watched intently, eyes filling with tears, Bobby readjusted the position of his broken leg, trying to make it more comfortable for him. Not that Sam could feel anything below the waist, but Bobby didn't want to anything to hinder Sam's recovery. It would come as a pretty bad blow when Sam got feeling back in his legs in a few months only to be permanently lame because of a badly treated broken leg.

Bobby purposely kept his gaze away from Dean.

_Come on Dean, ya brother needs ya..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean staggered back under the onslaught of Lucifer's words, and it felt as though a bomb had gone off in his mind.

Dean didn't think for a moment that Heaven wasn't exactly where Sam was headed the day he died; if anyone deserved the ultimate reward it was his sweet natured baby brother. It was just that Dean had never really considered where Sam had gone when he'd died at Cold Oak. Too busy grieving for the loss of his only family; it hadn't even crossed his mind. On top of that, Dean had never really believed in the existence of Heaven.

Clearly reading Dean's mind again, Lucifer let out a long world-weary sigh. "You silly child! Of _course_ there's a bloody Heaven! Think about it! There _has_ to be. There's a Hell right?" Seeing the look on Dean's face, he smiled. "Ohhhh, I get it; so you place a great deal of faith in a tormented afterlife, but the idea of there being a Heaven, the place where All The Good People Go, is just too much for you is it? My word! You _do_ have self-esteem issues don't you!"

He shook his head, sensing the grief and guilt now storming through the oldest Winchester boy.

Dean couldn't speak, could barely breathe. _Oh God! What have I done?_

"There has to be a balance. Man and woman, light and dark, _Heaven and Hell!_ I understand it's what some of your race refer to as Yin and Yang? Well, that's as close an analogy as it 

gets. And unfortunately, even I can see the sense in it all. Not even _I'm_ stupid enough to upset that balance."

Dean was hearing all this, but he was also going through his own personal dialogue.

_Sam's right. I __**was**__ selfish. I brought him back 'cos I didn't want to be alone in the world. I brought him back 'cos I couldn't go on without him. But now I might have ruined him, ruined any chance he might have had at happiness. He was in Heaven, and I brought him back out against his will. How can he ever forgive me?_

_But I can't go back and put it right, wouldn't even if I could. Just because __**I'm that godamn selfish!**_

Driven by the anger and the guilt, Dean launched himself at The Morning Star, knowing he had to do one last good thing. For his brother. _For Sam._

Satan blocked the first blow easily. By the second, he was busy inspecting his fingernails, muttering about the need for a manicure. Just as he caught Dean's wrist and twisted hard until Dean was on his knees, one arm wrenched painfully behind his back, Lucifer smiled and nodded. Had Dean been in a position to he'd have seen his captor's nails suddenly gleam, and then smooth out into almost a French polish effect.

"That's much better!" Satan admiring his nails for a second before glanced down at his prisoner, struggling uselessly in his grip. He seemed almost surprised to see Dean and nodded in greeting. "Still here? My word! Where were we? Ah yes, that's right..."

Dean found himself dragged along the road, loose gravel tearing painful gouges in his abdomen as his T-shirt rode up. Then he was yanked upwards, forced to his feet, facing over the drop where he'd last seen the doomed coach.

"Take a good look _Winchester_." Lucifer hissed in Dean's ear. "Remember this, remember this place. Your brother's last stand do you think?"

"Fuck you!" Dean wouldn't give up even knowing how useless this was; he wasn't going down without a fight. He kicked out catching The Devil on the shin, then followed it up with an attempt to gouge out his eyes. "I'll make damn sure you'll remember _me_!"

Lucifer quickly began to tire of Dean's feeble attempts to fight, and pushed him back until he was teetering over the edge of the drop. Time slowed and Dean stared long and hard as Lucifer, eyes narrowed, slowly reached out...

Just as Dean lost any semblance of balance, as he was about to fall, Lucifer smiled sadly...then grabbed Dean's shirt front, pulled him forward and threw him to the ground, leaving him on his hands and knees, breathing heavily.

"Wha...? You...bastard!"

Satan watched him, once again knowing exactly what he was thinking.

"Ya know, it really _is_ all about free will and choice. _Yours._ I can't tell you if Sam will ever reach his so-called rightful place in Heaven, not now. And even if I _did_ I wouldn't let on!" The smug smile made Dean cringe, and he wanted to wipe it off The Devil's face. Preferably with an angle grinder. "But if it's of any comfort to you, you both fought well. Sam's realised his true potential, and you're out of the deal. And that's the only reason you're both getting a second chance, and therefore _another_ opportunity to cock it _right _up." His voice turned low and menacing. "But there will always be more Ferrymen. So be told Dean Winchester.

_Be warned..._**"**

He strode forward and slammed his newly manicured hand downwards onto the top of Dean's head. Dean collapsed face down on the road, consciousness gradually deserting him.

But as he faded out he heard Lucifer say something that confused the hell out of him.

"Rest for now_, my son..."_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Dean?" Sam could barely breathe with the anxiety flowing though him when his brother suddenly jerked and gasped. "Dean!"

Dean gagged and choked, but once Dr Michaels had him properly intubated he soon settled down into the slow breathing pattern of the respirator. In fact as Sam studied him, his older brother looked almost peaceful for once.

He glanced up as Dr Michaels pulled open Dean's eyes, the flash of the penlight eliciting no response.

"Is he ok? I mean, he'll wake up soon, right?" When he received no answer, Sam wheeled himself round Dean's bed and virtually pinned the doctor up against the wall, casted broken leg nestled firmly in the MD's groin. "Well? IS HE GONNA BE OK?" He demanded angrily.

"Uh...um..." Dr Michaels was having trouble swallowing, mainly because he was worried that any slight involuntary movement might be the cause of his testicles performing the steady climb right back up to a place that only choir boys are familiar with. His voice box, automatically adjusted for a few octaves hirer by now, just managed to squeak out a response. 

"I need to examine him first...just...please...could I possibly have my balls back? In one piece would be good."

Sam blinked, then realised what he'd done. "Oh god! Uh...sure. Sorry." He wheeled backwards, trying to put a reassuring distance between himself and the doctor. But the tense look on Bobby's face was anything but reassuring. In fact it was about as far from reassuring as you can get without actually changing continents.

Once Dr Michaels felt his groin was out of immediate danger he sighed. "Look, I just don't know. What do you want me to say? Sam, you had no heart beat for about thirty minutes. You were dead, but now you're back...and with no trace of brain damage." He considered that for a second. "Of course I can't account for your lunacy _before_ asking me to KILL YOU, but I'm assuming that's just the norm for you and your..._family._ But Dean's been de..._under_ for a lot longer." He stared hard at Sam. "I'm gonna keep a close eye on him, but if he doesn't regain consciousness soon, or he deteriorates..."

He didn't need to finish that sentence. Sam understood perfectly. It was a pretty dicey situation and Sam had no idea what to expect. He just had to hope that Dean would pull through and come back. After all, he'd done it before. But Sam's inner voice suddenly stuck an oar in.

_Yeah, but he hadn't struck no less than two deals at the cross roads to save your worthless hide, only for you to up and leave him facing down the ultimate evil._ _You left him to fight Lucifer alone!_

Bobby could tell that Sam was already silently berating himself, and crouched down in front of his wheelchair, grabbing his shoulders gently but firmly.

"Now you listen to me! Dean knew what he was doing so don't you go heavy on the guilt trip there son." Bobby knew what Sam was thinking just by the dark look on his face, and he wanted to shake him. Hard. "Forget it. You already tried that. Now I don't know what the hell it was you did in there, or wherever the hell _there_ is, but something sure worked! Now it's up to Dean to find his way back. And he _will_ come back, Sam. You just need to have faith."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**The closer you get to the meaning**_

the sooner you'll know that you're dreaming

So it's on and on and on,

_**oh it's on and on and on**_

It goes on and on and on,

_**Heaven and Hell.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam stayed at his bedside. He slept in the wheelchair, he ate in the wheelchair, though not much, to Bobby's despair...and after days turned into a week, he was on the verge of shutting down. Bobby eyed Sam with despair and concern. The hollows under his eyes had deepened and his skin was almost translucent. Dr Michaels had even tried lacing some soup with a mild sedative, but Sam spat the food out in disgust.

Crouching down beside him, Bobby tried cajoling, begging and even threatening him to take better care of himself.

"Come on Sam." Bobby cupped Sam's jaw and held the water bottle to his lips. "You have to drink this, you're dehydrating kid."

Sam just blinked at him. "You said to have faith. But he's not comin' back is he?"

Bobby didn't know what else to do or say. The truth of it was he just plain had no idea.

So he lied.

"I don't believe that Sam. I think he's just takin' some time out. To rest and heal, which is what you should be doin'. So come on, let me help you back into bed. You wanna be fit when he wakes up right?"

Sam's gaze slowly slid back to his brother.

"No. I'm stayin' right here. He's been there for me, and now it's my turn to be there for him." There was no way Sam was getting back in his bed. If Dean moved or woke up, Sam wanted to be at his side, and seeing as Sam couldn't walk then staying in the wheelchair was the only option. At least that damn tube had been removed from Dean's throat; that was something to be thankful for.

"Sam..."

"No!" Sam remained steadfast in his chair.

Bobby left the water on the bedside table and wisely retreated. Ellen was waiting for him in the corridor, and demanded an explanation. By the time he was finished, she was looking pretty pale.

"He aint gonna be able to survive like that for much longer Bobby!" Ellen slid down the wall, and buried her face in her hands. "The poor kid's been through so much. If he doesn't eat something soon..."

Bobby soon joined her. "Yeah...I know..." He looped an arm round her shoulders and she leaned into him. It was probably the most physical contact either of them had experienced in a long time.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Well, Sam's making himself ill over Dean, and Dean's had a bit of an eye opener. But then, as he once told us, demon's lie, yes? Just to mess with our heads? I know a few people like that. Some of my former school teachers for starters!

And yes, I messed around with the song lyrics a bit just because it felt right at those particular stages of the story.

Hope you enjoyed it, and the next chapter will be the last; its already written and being proof read. So if you want to know what happens then I strongly suggest you hit that review button.

..._**You gotta let me know my darlin's...**_

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	12. Chapter 12

**RTC Chapter 12**

**Heaven and Hell...Part 2**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**It looked to everyone in the room as though an ethereal firework display were taking place, as the walls lit up in a kaleidoscope of colours. It was almost as if someone had taken all the sunlight in the world and shone it through a huge crystal, the prism splitting the light into a million glass shards. **_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**Go on, justify yourself!" He stepped right up into Dean's face just as Dean went toe to toe with him. "What gave you the right to change the natural course of events?"**_

_**He jabbed Dean hard in the stomach with a finger. "Indeed, what gave you the right to wrench him out of Heaven and give him back his life? Do you even realise what you've done to him?"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

"_**Dean, come back!" Sam whispered, and flinched at the all too familiar sight of his brother's body bucking and arching under the difib paddles. "Don't leave me..."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**There has to be a balance. Man and woman, light and dark, Heaven and Hell! I understand it's what some of your race refer to as Yin and Yang? Well, that's as close an analogy as it gets. And unfortunately, even I can see the sense in it all. Not even I'm stupid enough to upset that balance."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Dean collapsed face down on the road, consciousness gradually deserting him.**_

_**But as he faded out he heard Lucifer say something that confused the hell out of him.**_

"_**Rest for now, my son..."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Dean, you remember when I was eleven? I came home from school with a black eye." Sam smiled sadly and reached out to stroke Dean's spiky hair. It was a mess, and already growing 

passed his ears. Sam watched the rise and fall of his brother's chest with some apprehension, but just glad that Dean could do that by himself now.

"I'd been in a fight, but you told me that I'd heal. That all the bruises would fade." Sam sniffed a little. "But losing you...that's a bruise that won't. Please...Dean..." He started to cry unashamedly. "You gotta come back to me man..."

Bobby and Ellen watched with heavy hearts from the open door. Ellen's maternal instincts wanted her to rush in there and sweep the boy up in her arms. But she knew better.

And so did Bobby.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean gradually became aware that his right hand was being held in a vice, though without pain. He was also starting to wonder why his sleeve was damp and..._was that someone talking? Huh. Sounds like Sam. Why's he sound so upset?_

_Sam! Sam speak up buddy I can barely hear ya!_

But he felt the pull towards sleep much too strong and allowed it to envelope him in its warmth. Wanting to return the comfort his brother offered, Dean squeezed his hand lightly.

Knowing Sam was alive and _here_, made Dean feel safe and secure for the first time since he'd found his little brother trapped behind the wheel of an old car at the bottom of a cliff. For the first time since then, he no longer felt scared.

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam froze and put a halt to the one sided conversation with his brother.

"Dean? Did you just squeeze my hand?" Sam leaned forward, wide eyes searching Dean's face anxiously for any sign of movement. "Come on man, stop messin' around. I _know _you squeezed my hand." But after a few minutes and no further movement came, Sam slumped in his chair, defeated, and wondered if he'd imagined it. He soon fell into an uneasy sleep, upper torso resting on his brother's bed and his forehead on Dean's hand, held tightly in his own.

Sometime later Ellen crept into the room and gently laid a blanket around Sam's shoulders. It was a testament to how exhausted he was that he didn't even stir. Worriedly, she cupped a hand to the exposed part of his face and was startled at the heat radiating off him. About to head back out to get Bobby and Dr Michaels she stopped when a familiar voice croaked out.

"Hey Ellen. Sam ok?"

Ellen turned to meet Dean's wary green gaze. She could've lied. She could've spun all kinds of crap, but somehow she didn't think Dean would be fooled, especially when he got a good look at his brother.

"I wish I could tell ya different Hon, but Sam here's literally worried himself sick over ya. He's got a fever."

Dean's eyes widened with concern and he sat up groggily. "How long have I been out?"

Ellen bit her lip before answering "You were under for far too long, but you've been unconscious for over a week." She offered a small worried smile. "Sam's been sat by your 

side the whole time. He wouldn't eat or drink, especially after Doc Michaels and Bobby conspired to drug him just to at least get him a decent night's sleep."

Dean chuckled a little before his eyes went back to Sam, or rather what he could see of his brother under all that hair since his face was turned away. "Yeah. He's more like Dad than he knows."

A snort of amusement came from the doorway. "I believe that's a pot and kettle moment!" Dean glanced up to see Bobby grinning at him. "How ya feelin' son?"

"I'm ok. It's Sam I'm worried about..." He touched a hand to the back of Sam's neck and frowned. "You're right Ellen, he _is_ running a fever." He immediately pressed the call button then leapt out of bed, almost face planting when his underused muscles protested at the movement. When Bobby went to help, Dean shrugged him off. Rounding the bed he got his first real look at Sam and froze in shock.

"Shit!" Dean knelt by the wheelchair, reached out and tilted his brother back and to the side so that he came to rest against Dean's chest, then started shaking Sam awake. "Hey Sammy? You with me?"

Sam let out a faint groan then opened sleep-weary eyes and blinked up at Dean. "Dean?" He whispered breathlessly. "You awake?"

"Yeah I'm awake, which is more than should be said for you right now." Dean smiled worriedly at Sam, noting the faint perspiration on his skin and the short shallow breaths. "What the hell you think you're doin' up an' about dude? You just had surgery! Come on little bro. Let's get you back in bed huh?"

Sam just stared up at him with glazed eyes, as if unable to believe he wasn't just dreaming.

"What happened? " He slurred out after Dean and Bobby finally managed to get him under the covers. He was shivering violently by this point and starting to look scared. "I...I thought you weren't coming back, that Lucifer was gonna keep you there that the cross road demon had won, but that can't be true 'cos we beat the driver and sent him back..." Sam's words were coming out in a jumbled mess but Dean understood where he was coming from.

"Slow down Sammy. There's time enough for that later." Dean drew the covers up to Sam's chin, and gently tucked him in as though he was four years old. "I'm here and I'm not goin'

anywhere. Now get some sleep ok? We gotta lot to talk about."

Bobby and Ellen silently left the brothers to it, sensing that they needed some time to themselves.

Dean watched over Sam as he finally fell into a deep sleep. He sat back and used the time to put his thoughts in order, though Sam would probably laugh at that.

Dean was starting to process a few things; the cross road demon, Lucifer's words, Heaven and Hell, the existence of God (though there was still a big bold question mark over _that_ one as far as Dean was concerned). Dean was the first to admit that he lacked something in the philosophy stakes, and had even flunked out of Religious Studies in High School; feeling that his time was better spent trying to frighten the girls with cartoon drawings of penises. But he had the distinct impression that something was off here.

The Devil wasn't known for giving second chances; it wasn't his place. He was better known for double crossing, back stabbing, and going back on his 'word'. So what had happened exactly?

That same something told him that he could live for a thousand years and never truly know the answer.

Another question plagued him, scared him, as he glanced at his sleeping brother. Sam was looking better every minute. Dr Michaels had been by recently and set up a fresh IV to rehydrate him and provide much needed antibiotics. Sam had made himself ill from exhaustion, not to mention pulling his stitches, moving around too soon after surgery, and of course the prolonged CPR hadn't helped. Now he was on the mend and Dean could relax a little. But still...

_Am I really out of the deal? Or was Lucifer just dickin' with me? Is Sam safe now?_

Either way, it was certain that he'd find _that_ one out soon enough.

When his year was finally up.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

He smiled down at Dean Winchester as he lay sprawled out on the road. Leaning down, he brushed an affectionate hand over the boy's face, then stood and turned when someone cleared their throat apologetically.

"Yes, my son? You have a question?" He spoke kindly to the figure standing on the side of the road, watching him carefully.

Stepping forward, a tall young blonde man, dressed in a white suit, smiled tentatively. "Father, I do indeed have a question. Many in fact. But..." His voice trailed off as he wondered how to put it.

"Yes Gabrielle? You may ask away. It is only us here." He smiled at the younger man, eyes twinkling a little mischievously.

"Well,"

And Gabrielle turned to stare _God_ squarely in the eye.

"How do you think Satan's going to react when he finds out what you've done? Impersonating him to save Dean's soul?"

God thought for a moment, then grinned brightly. "He'll be bloody furious I reckon!"

And they both started laughing loudly.

God and the Archangel Gabrielle strolled away into the distance, still laughing.

"I'd love to be a fly _his _wall when he finds out! Hehe! That's the best prank I've played in years on the old bastard!"

"But is Dean really out of the deal?"

"Once his brother's sorted out that bloody bus, then yes. It's more water tight than a mermaid's pants. He struck a new deal, and he's honoured it. Simple as that my son."

"Why Sam?"

"That _was_ the deal you agreed was it not? That Sam had to be the one?"

"Well, yes..."

"There you go then. You happy now at the part you played?,"

There was a choking sound followed by a muttered _"why's it always me that has to snog the blokes? St. Michael at least got to kiss a woman last time we did this...mind you, Dean Winchester's a pretty hot kisser...Oh my God what am I saying!!"_

"...And now that blithering idiot in charge of all the cross road contracts will be happy he's got that lunatic McAllister at last, everyone's a winner, yes?"

"Umm...but Hell _really_ wanted those Winchesters. Won't they be a bit..._upset?_"

God thought for a moment. "Well, _someone's_ got to lose I suppose." He conceded, then grinned again "And I'm bloody determined it aint gonna be me!"

There was more laughter as the two _entities_ disappeared into the dusk, but Gabrielle could be heard asking just one more question...

"Do you think he believes in you now? You did put up quite a convincing argument, and he might piece it all together himself."

God glared at him in horror. "I bloody hope not! Good grief! We can't have humans running 'round the Earth believing in me just because they've _met_ me! It would throw the whole concept of faith into disarray, not to mention what it could do to the Catholic Church." God made a _harrumph _noise as he squared his shoulders. "No no, I'm quite sure the cocky little shit's telling his brother _right this minute_ that I don't exist and that Sam's an idiot to think otherwise." He grinned again suggestively.

Gabrielle took a while to catch on before he also smiled.

"Good show sir!"

"Why thank you Gabrielle. And er...Gabrielle?"

"Yes my lord?"

"Enough of the brown nosing please. It's really not befitting of your status."

"Sorry my lord."

"I should think so."

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Some months later, and a few days after Dean's year...**_

Dean watched as Sam set the table for dinner. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing his little brother in a wheelchair, and hopefully never would. Sam was starting to get some feeling back in his legs, and could even move them with some effort.

Sam had the plates on his knees as he expertly wheeled round Bobby's kitchen table, then stopped when he sensed Dean's gaze on him. Sam smiled, and it was _that smile_ that had Dean's own lips curling up at the corners.

"What? You ok Dean?" Sam looked so young and vulnerable sitting there staring up at him.

"Nothin'. You taken your pain killers?" Dean turned back to the stove, stirring the rice.

"Come on Dean," Sam asked softly. "What is it? What's buggin' ya?"

Turning the heat down on the curry, Dean pulled out a chair and straddled it. He had so much he wanted to say, so much to be thankful for...

_Thanks for what you did for me..._

_Thanks for what you risked for me..._

_Thanks for not dying again..._

_I almost lost you...so many times that night!_

A slide show ran through his mind of his brother trapped in the SUV, Sam strapped on the stretcher, being lifted into the helicopter, the chopper crashing and not knowing if he was alive, Sam losing consciousness under the influence of the drugs, going under..._Sam not coming back..._

"Dean!"

Dean blinked. "Sorry man. Mind was wanderin' there."

"Yeah, so I guessed." Sam studied him carefully, and did his usual trick of reading his brother's mind. "Ya know...I'd do it all again if it meant saving you from that deal." He added quietly, "and if I hadn't succeeded, it would've killed me."

Dean glanced at him sharply, but decided to leave it at that. The last thing Sam needed, _or deserved_ right now, was his brother's wrath. Instead he smiled before asking the question that had been bugging him for a while.

"Sam? You really think that was Lucifer?" Dean stared at him.

"Not sure. I mean, it doesn't add up that he'd just let us off." Sam shifted a little in his wheelchair, his back aching a little. "But then, you _are _out of the deal. We foreclosed on it when we found the coach..."

When Sam had recovered from the fever he'd wanted to get out there right away to find the coach, but Dr Michaels, whilst keeping his groin well out of kicking distance, had refused right from the get go. And with Dean, Bobby and Ellen to back him up, the good Doctor won the battle.

But before long there was no stopping him, and the brothers headed out. Dean and Sam had come to the same conclusion.

Sam had recognised the site of the earth quake as the same location his SUV had been pushed off the road. It looked a little different from over fifty years ago but it was the same place, Sam had no doubts about that.

But Dean's experience soon clinched it.

_Take a good look Winchester. Remember this, remember this place. Your brother's last stand do you think?_

So, with Sam on guard just in case McAllister wasn't completely gone, Dean had set about with a small digger, and soon uncovered the sad, rusted remains of the coach. The brothers had stared at the metal skeleton for a few long minutes, sparing a thought for all the innocents that died that day in the quake, and all the others since.

Silently, Dean made his way up the steep slope, looped some rope around his waist, then, remembering the other part of the deal, looped another length around his brother before pulling him from his wheelchair. The other end had been attached to a tree on a pulley system, and Dean held Sam close as he rappelled back down to the metal graveyard, careful not jar his back.

As soon as Dean had him settled, he handed Sam the salt, gasoline and matches...

Sitting in Bobby's kitchen, the boys sipped a cold beer, each lost in their thoughts.

"Lucky you sat us a fair way up that slope before we did the salt and burn," Sam reflected casually. "And those were some impressive reflexes by the way!"

Dean snorted, nearly spilling his beer with laughter. "Yeah. Who'd have thought that after over fifty years that damn gas tank was still full!"

Sam grinned. "At least our eyebrows have finally grown back huh?"

When Bobby entered the kitchen it was to be greeted by raucous laughter.

"You boys still find that funny?" He struggled to hide his own amusement. "Aint that damn food ready yet? I'm starved!"

_**A few minutes later...**_

"Holy sweet Jesus on a fucking bike!" Bobby dashed for the sink and stuck his mouth under the faucet. When he finally emerged his bright red tongue was still hanging out his mouth, face flushed with perspiration. "What in hell was that stuff?"

Dean tried to look innocent but it was hopeless. Innocence had given up on him years ago and he was more than happy, seeing as he'd never had much use for it anyway. "It's beef madras dude. I added some coconut milk so it wouldn't be too hot...but I must've misread the recipe." He gave one of his quick grins.

When Bobby glared at him, Sam leaned over. "Yeah, but you used two thirds of the jar of curry paste dude, and there's _no way_ any amount of coconut milk will compensate for that."

After an evening of laughter, mainly at Bobby's expense, all three sat out on the veranda and watched the very last of the sunset.

Sam was already drifting off to sleep, slumped in his wheelchair, and Dean placed a warm comforter round his shoulders.

"Dean? You really don't believe in God?" Bobby's question startled him at first, but then he sat back and thought for a moment.

"I've never believed in a higher power, and I detest anything that pre-destines people. The future is a blank sheet of paper, waiting for us to scrawl our own personal crap on it." Dean glanced over at Bobby with a slight smile, his eyebrows raised. "Kinda like graffiti, I guess. But now?" He sighed and faced the setting sun again. "I'm not entirely convinced God exists, no. But I'm maybe ready to think about it."

Bobby nodded a little surprised at the straight answer, took a sip of beer and also went back to his sunset study.

Unbeknownst to both men, Sam cracked open an eye and smiled. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he went back to sleep, content that he was finally getting somewhere with his stubborn, pig-headed, atheist older brother.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Epilogue.**_

The punters of the Red Pig Road House sat up in wary silence as the main door slammed open and two men strode in. One was faintly familiar to Beer Gut serving behind the bar, but the taller one had a menacing smile he hadn't seen before.

Within an hour, the two strangers left with grazed knuckles, smug grins and around five hundred dollars in their back pockets.

In their wake could be heard groans, swearing, and the sounds of pig-like grunting as various _humanoids_ picked themselves up from the floor, the tables, or even from out behind the bar.

No one was conned or Mickey Finned in the Red Pig Road House ever again.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Couldn't resist ending it in the bar where most of Dean's troubles started.

It's finally at an end, and I'm a little sad about that. I haven't seen the S3 finale, but I've read the synopsis and I reckon that my ending is much more fun! If a little bit _Terry Pratchett's Disc World_ in places.

I know that my theories in this fic are flawed, but I look at this way: _you've got to laugh eh?_

And it's a nice idea that maybe someone _is_ looking out for our boys, if somewhat surreptitiously at times!

So, many thanks for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it enough to leave a review.

Special thanks go out to all those wonderful reviewers of this story. The wheels of revolution continue to turn...

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


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